Hard Lines
by adiwriting
Summary: Blaine's elaborate plans for the "best senior year ever" get brought to a halt when he discovers that the headaches he's been having, aren't really headaches at all and all of his strange behavior lately, including cheating on Kurt, can all blamed on one thing — there's a tumor growing inside of his brain that's doing it's best to kill him. (FYI not a character death fic)
1. Prologue

It started with a headache, likely brought on by staying up late for a Skype date with Kurt that never happened. He didn't think anything of it at the time, knowing that it would go away with a couple of Advil and a good nights sleep — if that was even possible with everything he had to do that day. The Super Side Kicks Appreciation Club ran until four-thirty and after that he was expected at Tina's house to work on a recruitment number to help fill the last two spots in glee club. After Blaine was finished there he still had a personal statement to finish for his application to NYADA.

He was over-scheduled and stressed out which was both a blessing and a curse. While it kept him busy enough that he didn't have time to worry about Kurt's growing distance, it was also taking a toll on his body and getting to bed early was next to impossible.

The headaches weren't a constant thing, but they happened often enough. Usually he woke up with a sharp pain in his head that faded by third period. They didn't often happen during the day and by the time he returned home for the night, they were a distant memory buried behind pop quizzes, ignorant teachers, more ignorant students, Glee and his girls — Tina, Sugar, and Brittany.

After the first few weeks, he began waking up in the middle of the night with pain so blinding that he wanted to claw his brain out for relief. Even the sound of running water - which was a necessity if he wanted to be able to take Advil — felt like a marching band was stomping around in his head. On those nights he downed a handful of pills with little regard to recommended dosages. It wasn't healthy for his liver, he knew, but it was the only thing that could get him back to bed. He always meant to ask his mother about it in the morning but, after a rough night's sleep, he was usually rushing out of the door, desperate to make it to first period before the bell rang.

He started taking medicine every night before falling asleep and again with breakfast. It didn't erase the ache, but it dulled the pain enough that it was easy to ignore. The slight burning behind his eyes became the new regular for him. Between college applications, a failing long-distance relationship, becoming the "New Rachel," countless new club meetings, student council, and three AP classes, it was no wonder that he was stressed all the time.

It would be better next year, he told himself. He'd be in New York with Kurt and all of his stress would go away. He just had to survive this year.

The dizziness came next, but that was a natural progression from headaches and perpetual tiredness. When he tripped over himself constantly while mini-golfing with Sam and practically fainted when walking to the car, he was sent home with strict orders to rest for the rest of the weekend so he would be healthy for the presidential debate next week. He could recognize that a spinning room was a sign of illness, but he figured at most he was coming down with a cold.

When Monday hit and he was still feeling shitty, Blaine debated going in for a check up. However, his doctor didn't have any available appointments that worked between school, Glee, student council and all of his club meetings so he put it off. He was found throwing up in the bathroom a few minutes before the debate started complaining of nausea, so Coach Sylvester gave him a miracle shot that performed wonders. Blaine not only made it through the debate with flying colors, but he survived the rest of the week without a single sign of illness. When the following week came and he didn't have so much as a headache, he figured that he was finally getting back to himself again.

He wasn't.

_What's up, sexy? You want to come over?_

That was how it all started — a Facebook message from a boy Blaine had apparently met on Grindr, which was absurd because Blaine had never been on Grindr a day in his life. Except that when he looked on the very last page of his phone where he rarely checked but where all new apps downloaded to, there it was - bright orange with a foreboding skull on it. A thorough check of his iTunes receipts revealed record of him downloading the application two weeks prior and then again paying for the upgrade two days ago at one in the morning.

Blaine had no memory of ever doing this which was scary enough on its own, but he clearly had. When he opened up his chat log, there were at least a dozen old conversations saved up — intensely sexual conversations in which Blaine propositioned men twice his age and exchanged shirtless and occasionally naked pictures with at least two guys from Lima University, one of them being Eli C.

He was a complete whore and he hadn't even meant to be. Blaine had always pictured himself as one of those men that stood by his man through thick and thin, but Kurt had only been gone two weeks when he'd first downloaded the application. The thought of what he'd done to their relationship, to Kurt's trust in him, with all of these messages made him violently ill and he threw up in the bathroom, but not before sending the mysterious Eli C. a response.

_I can be there in forty-five minutes._

Blaine felt zero remorse the entire time he was with Eli, which should have been a red flag, but Kurt had practically hung up on him when Blaine had tried to explain that he needed him and Blaine just couldn't be bothered with caring. Eli was slightly older and clearly knew what he was doing and Blaine was only concerned with doing what felt right, his mind playing dirty tricks on him by telling him that Kurt wouldn't care. Telling him that Kurt was likely out doing the same thing every night, which was why he never picked up the phone or held to their dates.

As soon as Eli left the bed to go get them water after they'd both come for a second time, Blaine seemed to come back to himself and realized what he'd done. He hadn't planned on meeting up with Eli or leading him on. Sleeping with him had never been on his agenda, either. That was most people's excuse and it was always bullshit, sure, but it was the honest truth.

Blaine was a good kid and a great boyfriend. He wasn't the type of person to cheat and it wasn't like him to run off to a stranger's house for a hookup. For all he'd known, he could have been walking into a murderer's or rapist's home. He'd been completely reckless and careless with his life and the worst part was, it had felt good. Blaine had acted without even thinking about the consequences and that wasn't like him.

He ran out of Eli's home with barely a goodbye, feeling sicker than he had in weeks. He scrubbed his skin raw that night in the shower to get rid of the dirty feeling and he was disgusted with himself enough to throw up every day for the next two weeks, leading him to wonder if he hadn't been drugged. Was that the reason why he couldn't remember contacting those men? It was crazy to even consider, but fourteen days of pure misery was making him a bit loopy.

Blaine put off traveling to New York as long as he could — not because he didn't want to tell Kurt, he knew that keeping this a secret was never an option and Blaine wasn't capable of lying to Kurt — but because he'd been too sick to travel. When Kurt e-mailed him a very loving Sweetest Day card, he knew that he couldn't put it off any longer. Dying of the plague or not, Blaine went to New York.

They broke up, which should have made sense to Blaine after what he'd done, but it didn't. His entire life had somehow spiraled out of control and he still wasn't sure how it had happened. It was like another person had taken over his body because his actions weren't his own. Not only had he cheated on the love of his life, but Blaine had actually tried to blame the entire thing on Kurt, like it was somehow his fault that Blaine had become a raging whore.

Confusion became a new permanent state for him, going well with the loneliness, self-hate, perpetual illness and overall feeling of depression.

For several days after the breakup he felt worse than he had ever felt in his life, which he wasn't sure was even possible, but apparently it was. Not only was he still nauseous and suffering from head splitting migraines, but he was weak. Standing up at any speed faster than a dying grandmother caused the entire world to start spinning far too quickly. He screamed at his friends for no good reason and his vision would blur so badly that he thought he might have to get glasses.

That was what he got for breaking the heart of his soul mate. Karma was a bitch and she certainly was hell bent on punishing him for his vast sins.

It happened one Thursday afternoon during rehearsals for _Grease_ — and when had he even auditioned for the show, because he couldn't remember. It seemed like his entire life was in a trance — Finn and Artie were sitting at the director's table watching him try and run through 'Beauty School Dropout.' The girls had all been cast as his backup dancers and singers, but they just couldn't seem to get the number right. Artie kept telling him that he was off while Kitty insulted him under her breath. Blaine was getting frustrated because he was trying and why didn't anybody seem to comment on the fact that the girls _all_ sounded off key? They were singing so quietly and their voices kept going in and out. It was rather hard to play off of, so why was Artie picking on him? He rubbed at his temples, feeling his headache begin again.

"Alright, let's take a break and move on to blocking out the routine," Finn said, clearly frustrated at continuing to work with zero results. "Blaine, work on that at home more, this shouldn't be a problem for you."

"Of course," he said, blushing and wanting to crawl into a hole and die. He wanted more than anything to be able to call Kurt and complain about it all, but Kurt had already sent back all of his apology gifts — some of them were torn to pieces before being shipped back, including an adorable stuffed bear that hadn't done anything to deserve losing all of its stuffing — so he knew that option was gone.

Not that Kurt picked up the phone when you were together, Blaine thought bitterly.

It was humiliating. He'd been voted the "New Rachel." It was in him that the entire club had placed their faith, what if he couldn't do it? If he couldn't sing one song in a musical where he hadn't even been cast as the lead, how was he supposed to lead them to Nationals this year? He would never forgive himself if they didn't win Sectionals in three weeks.

The dance steps weren't hard, he knew. Mike and Brittany had shown them to him earlier in the week. He had grown more clumsy in the last few weeks, but it hadn't affected his dancing until now. He was surprised to find himself struggling so much.

"Blaine, get your head in the game," Finn yelled as Blaine tripped over his own feet during a simple turn.

"Sorry," he grumbled, growing angry at the constant nagging. He was off his game, sure, but couldn't they just lay off of it for a little bit? He wasn't nearly as bad as Finn used to be.

"What is with you?" Tina asked, giving him a worried look. "You've never had trouble getting choreography before."

"I guess I'm just a little sick, I'll be fine," Blaine shrugged off her concern, not realizing that Artie could hear him.

"If Mercedes can dance and sing at Nationals through food poisoning, you can do this," Artie said, a little too harshly in his opinion. "If you can't do this, we'll cast somebody else as Teen Angel."

Blaine was about to respond that it wouldn't be necessary, that he'd be fine, but instead he ended up falling on top of Sugar as she spun into him and he tried to dip her like they were supposed to.

By the end of practice, his understudy had stepped in and Blaine had to sit in the audience and watch on in shame as some fumbling freshman managed to get down the steps that he hadn't been able to. It was embarrassing. He wanted, more than anything, to talk to Kurt about it, or even Rachel, but he'd burned that bridge when he'd slept with Eli. So he put on a brave face and was a team player. It was only temporary anyway. Artie would let him back in the show after his temper cooled off.

The next few weeks went by in a blur of illness and depression until he found himself at opening night of _Grease_ feeling wholly unprepared to perform in front of an entire auditorium when he could barely remember his steps. There were a lot of things he was forgetting recently, like somebody warning him that Kurt would be there. It was making him feel off his game and his limbs grew uncoordinated in a way that wouldn't aid his performance.

"After we destroy this number and show everyone that we're the real stars of this school, I'm planning on telling Finn we are singing 'Circus' as a duet for Sectionals," Sugar said, already in Frenchy's opening costume. "Daddy's got a choreographer working on it for us."

She continued to lament how the two of them could win the New Directions Sectionals if only they were given a chance and he wanted to explain that he was alright with Jake being given his solo. He wanted to tell her that Jake is a great dancer and with a bit more confidence an excellent lead vocalist. 'Circus', at least the way she was proposing they do it, was a bit too raunchy for the judges, he tried to say but all that came out was a garbled mess that didn't resemble anything unless that teacher in Charlie Brown was actually speaking a real language, because that was what came out of his mouth when he tried to speak.

"Are you drunk? Because if you mess up my number because you're bummed your ex is here, I'm uninviting you to my after-party," she said, tactful as ever.

"I'm fine," he said, or at least tried to say, but all that came out was a slurred mess neither of them understood. He tried again, concentrating on forming each syllable carefully on his tongue, but it didn't come out right.

"Maybe you should drink some coffee to sober up?" she suggested, handing him a dollar she'd had tucked in her shirt.

He could try to tell her that he wasn't drunk, but it wouldn't have been successful. His tongue felt like it was lead, cemented to the bottom of his mouth. The only feeling he could equate it to was when the dentist had numbed his mouth to pull a tooth, but this was a million times worse than that and it was scary not understanding why it was happening to him.

He should have gone to the hospital at that moment. The second he realized he was suffering from more than just a persistent flu he should have let his understudy step in and gone to the Emergency Room. It was stupid of him but he already felt like such a failure to everyone, from Kurt all the way to the New Directions, and he just wanted to know that he could do something right in their eyes. The show must go on, they said.

So even while his entire tongue had gone numb, he found himself making his way into a makeup chair to get ready as the curtain came up on the opening number. If there was one thing to be thankful for, it was that he wouldn't be needed onstage until the second act. That was plenty of time for him to regain feeling in his tongue, right? Whenever his foot fell asleep it only ever took a minute or so for the feeling to come back and this couldn't be much different than that.

He was going to be fine, he told himself as he looked up at the ceiling and willed himself not to cry. This kind of thing was probably more common than he knew and it was silly for him to get worried before he even knew what was wrong with him. He curled up in his chair and stared blankly at the wall ahead, trying to keep himself distracted with the sounds of the show.

Santana killed 'Look At Me, I'm Sandra Dee' but Unique's version had more humor, Blaine thought to himself, happy to keep his mind off anything substantial. It seemed to do the trick because he found his words again by intermission and was glad he hadn't decided to leave the show to go to the hospital over a problem that seemed to resolve itself. Vowing to ask his mother about it when he got home that night, he put it out of his mind and prepared to take the stage for the second act.

As the curtain opened and the beginning chords of his solo started an ominous cloud settled over him, but when he opened his mouth to sing the words came out just as they were supposed to and perfectly on key. Blaine was nothing if not a professional and he was going to put on the best performance he ever had, even if he could feel Kurt's eyes burning a hole into him. It helped that his character was supposed to be focused on Sugar's because Blaine didn't know if he trusted himself to look away from her trusting gaze for a second because he didn't want to break.

As he started to settle into the song and the girls began dancing around him, the right side of his body began to tingle, but he ignored it. There was only another two minutes or so and he would be finished. The song began to settle down and Blaine happily made his way back up the steps, proud of himself for making it all the way through and just as he moved to step onto the top stair and let out his final note, his leg gave out and he tumbled down the stairs. There was a painful snap and he cried out before he reached the bottom and his head smacked against the corner of a stair and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 1

When Blaine finally came to after thirty minutes of unconsciousness, it was to a light shining in his eyes while somebody else poked and prodded at his abdomen. The room was full of disorienting noises: a machine beeping out a steady rhythm, somebody was screaming in pain next door, unfamiliar people spoke loudly around him in numbers and acronyms that made little sense to his foggy mind. It would have made little sense even if his mind was clear. He tried to move his head around to find a familiar face, but there was something holding him down and preventing him from turning his head.

That was when he began to panic, gasping for breath as he felt his throat close up. He was in a hospital—that much was obvious to him. The Emergency Room was not an unfamiliar place to him and he recognized the frantic pace that doctors and nurses were moving around him, coming in and out and calling for consults.

He just didn't understand what he was doing there.

"Huzzzb," his mouth said when what he'd really wanted to do was ask what was happening to him.

"Blaine?" a doctor with an all too bubbly smile on her face, given the situation, said to him. "You're in the hospital. You had a bit of a fall and we just want to check you out, okay?"

"Othmm," he said, realizing that he was incapable of forming words yet again. He continued to breathe heavily and pulled free from the restraint he was under so that he could turn his head and look around for a familiar face. He found Kurt and Sam on the other side of a glass window, both with tense, worried looks on their faces that did nothing to settle his fears. Not too far behind them was Tina, Rachel, Finn and the rest of New Directions most of whom were still in their _Grease _costumes.

What had happened? Why couldn't he even remember the show?

"It's going to be alright, we are going to take care of you," the doctor said, gently pushing him back down into the bed. "We need to you stay still until we are able to clear your neck and spine."

"Spaannn?" he said, his words still not coming out, but the doctor seemed to understand him enough.

"It's protocol. I'm sure you're fine. Please try to breathe for me; it's not good for your blood pressure. We're doing everything that we can to figure out what's going on. Your only job is to breathe nice and slow for me."

He did his best to calm down, despite the fact that his head was pounding in a way that was entirely different than the headaches he'd grown used to. It felt like somebody had hit him in the head with a baseball bat—a feeling he knew all too well.

Oh, God. Had he been attacked? Did the doctor say something about a fall?

He watched a nurse as she talked him through deep breaths in and out, struggling for each gasp of air but trying his best. The doctors continued to check him over for injuries while his mind caught up with the rest of him and he began to ache all over his body.

He screamed out in pain as somebody twisted and pulled at his wrist until he heard a popping sound.

"Well, that was dislocated, I put a splint on to immobilize the leg but definitely needs an x-ray once everything else is checked out," he heard a man say, but he couldn't tell which doctor it was.

He wanted to close his eyes and slip into the fogginess that his mind was starting to offer him, but he was scared of not waking up again. His heart was racing as he began to put two and two together. It was opening night of _Grease_. He was supposed to be playing Teen Angel. He had been all set to go, getting ready for the show to start when he'd run into Kurt and Rachel.

Had he not even made it to curtain call without fainting?

"Get him to CT stat and page neuro as soon as you have the results," she directed somebody by the door that he couldn't see from where he was strapped down to the bed.

He reached out and grabbed onto the doctor's hand, desperate and needing her to say what was happening to him. Blaine's eyes must have relayed his fear because she was immediately smiling down at him again in a way that didn't ease his mind in the least. Was her smiling a way for her to stop him from panicking when there was something seriously wrong with him? Maybe he was overreacting. Maybe it was a genuine smile because she was happy that he was perfectly fine?

Then again how could any of this be fine, he argued with himself. He knew there had to be something wrong with him. If he was being honest with himself, he'd known that something wasn't okay for months now; he'd just been ignoring the problem.

"Don't worry, we're going to take good care of you," she said to him as a nurse began moving around him and prepared to take him to get a CT.

The last time he'd needed a CT, was after the Sadie Hawkins dance. He'd been holed up in the hospital for weeks after that. This couldn't be the same thing. He'd needed all kinds of surgery after that and he lost half of his liver in the process. The last thing he wanted was to be stuck in the hospital again. It was his senior year, he was supposed to be worrying about college applications, not surgeries.

"Idddda," he tried to say, his tongue glued down and useless.

He'd been talking to Sugar, hadn't he? He'd been talking to her and she thought he was drunk because his words sounded strange.

His hand moved up to his neck, pleading with the doctor to just tell him why his mind felt so muddled and his words were slurred. Why he couldn't remember how he'd even gotten to the hospital in the first place. Why was everything so lost?

"Slurred speech can simply be a sign of a concussion. After the fall you took, it's very likely you've got one. We just want to make sure it's nothing more," she explained, as the nurse pushed him out of the room.

He didn't have the time, or the verbal capacity to explain to her that he'd been slurring his speech before this mystery fall that he couldn't remember. He had been slurring his speech before, hadn't he? It was hard to keep track of things at the moment, but he could remember standing next to Sugar and being unable to speak properly and it stood to reason that had been before the fall.

Had he gotten dizzy and fainted in front of Sugar? Was that when the fall had happened? He had been feeling lightheaded for awhile. Oh God, he could already hear the shit she was going to give him for this.

"Is he okay?" Blaine heard Kurt's frantic voice ask the nurse as he was pushed down the hall. "Tell me that he's okay."

"We're taking him up for some tests to make sure," the nurse said.

Blaine reached blindly behind him, trying to get Kurt's attention. His eyes filled with tears of relief when he felt the familiar warm grip in his own. The grip was strong and sturdy and so real that it helped ground Blaine who felt like he was floating into the clouds, never to return.

"Hey, Honey," Kurt said, moving around the bed so that Blaine could see his tight, worried smile. The term of endearment flowed out naturally, like he hadn't been ignoring Blaine for the last several weeks. As if Blaine still deserved to be called anything after what he'd done to Kurt.

"Maaaa," he said, choking again on fear and the nurse moved to put a breathing mask over his face to help him. He took several strangled breaths, the machine making it easier for him to do so.

He looked at Kurt with foggy, pleading eyes, hoping that he could tell he was asking for his mother. She needed to know that he was in the hospital. As much as her presence annoyed him at times, he needed her there to hold his hand through all of this. There was nothing like a potential brain injury to turn a full grown teenager into a tearful toddler.

Kurt looked a bit surprised by everything, but he managed to hold it together for Blaine's sake, and for that he was grateful. He didn't think he could handle anybody else's stress because he was enough of a panicked mess as it was.

"Your mom is on her way," Kurt said, running a loving hand through his hair. "She'll be here by the time you get back, alright?"

He nodded his head, knowing it was futile to try and speak again. When the nurse reminded him that they needed to get upstairs for testing, he let go of Kurt's hand regretfully and the nurse pushed him into an elevator to go for his scans.

There was no time for Blaine to think about what it meant that Kurt was there for him and calling him pet names. He couldn't even put the last twenty-four hours together without all of his memories swimming together in an unrecognizable fog, he certainly couldn't try and process relationship drama.

"I know you're scared," the nurse said to him as they rode the elevator towards radiology. "Nine times out of ten, these things turn out to be nothing, they heal on their own."

Blaine nodded, knowing that it was pointless to try and ask her about the one time out of ten they didn't. Or ask what _things_ exactly healed on their own. He wouldn't have been able to say it with the way his tongue had betrayed him completely at a time when he desperately needed to be able to speak. To ask questions.

"Stress doesn't help," she said, causing him to give her a confused look. "The speech slurring? Stress doesn't help the problem. You need to try and remember to breathe. The body is a remarkable thing. It can usually heal itself, but you have to let it do its job. So relax."

Blaine closed his eyes and tried to focus on breathing in and out slowly, but his body wasn't doing a very good job of calming itself down and he knew it probably wasn't going to heal itself either. It was called Karma for a reason. He'd destroyed Kurt's trust and now he was paying the price.

They had to wait a few minutes to get into CT, but the only good thing about being a trauma patient was getting moved to the front of the line. His nurse—_call me Emily_ she'd said after he'd embarrassingly spent two minutes trying to ask for her name—did a good job of keeping him distracted but it only helped so much. The dark thoughts were beginning to sink in as the loud hustle and bustle of the Emergency Room was left behind and they waited in the much quieter Radiology Wing.

He was already picturing the worst possible outcome—dying from a broken heart that was causing him to have a stroke. Didn't old people slur their speech when they had a stroke? Perhaps he'd contracted some rare, undiscovered STD from Eli. What if Kurt had found a way to poison his food to punish him for cheating?

He couldn't imagine all the crazy things his mind would come up with if he had to wait over an hour for his scan, so he was thankful that they were setting him up for the CT within five minutes of arrival.

Blaine was anything but calm, but he did his best to cover it up with a brave smile so that Emily wouldn't realize how messed up he was and send him to a mental hospital. He was sure they'd be able to see it on the scan though. They'd be able to tell what an idiot he was as soon as they took a picture of his brain. They'd see how badly he'd failed at the one thing he'd always thought he was good at—loving Kurt.

The machine was loud and sounded like nails on a chalkboard to his pounding head, which made it hard to not to fidget, but he was tired enough that his mind was floating in that odd place between dreaming and reality despite all the noise. He tried to focus on the soft pop music that the technician had put on for him to listen to when she'd seen how scared he was. He hummed along to the familiar Rihanna ballad, trying to stay awake because he wasn't entirely sure if he was supposed to be sleeping or not and he didn't like the possibility of never waking up. The probability of it...

That's when his mind went blank as if all of his previous thoughts had just vanished and as much as he tried to reach out for them, for anything, there wasn't anything but black. There were no words, no song lyrics, no pictures or memories, nothing.

"Blaine, we need to you stay completely still," the technician said over the intercom but he didn't hear it.

He felt his eyes roll up into his head before they started moving around rapidly and with that he found his thoughts again, though they were useless to him when his entire body started to betray him and jerk around uncontrollably. He tried to tell his body to stop but it didn't do any good as he continued to convulse and he was vaguely aware of Emily pulling him out of the giant machine and moving him onto his side while she called for a doctor.

His eyes hurt so much from jerking to the right that he was scared they would rip out of their sockets. Then suddenly, just as quickly as it came, it passed and everything went black for the second time that night.

When he came to, the same peppy doctor from earlier was talking to Emily and they both looked at him with concern.

"Hi, I'm Doctor Green. Can you tell me your name?" the doctor asked while she shined a light into his eyes.

"Blaine," he said clearly, wincing at the way his jaw ached.

"Do you know what day it is?" she asked.

"Friday. It's opening night of the show," Blaine said, rolling onto his back again and trying to keep his exhausted eyes open. His face flushed a deep red as he realized that underneath the hospital gown, his underwear was wet. How had that happened?

"Can you tell me where we are?" Dr. Green asked with an understanding look.

"They were going to give me a CT," he said, turning to look at the machine behind him, wondering what had happened. The last thing he remembered was the technician explaining the process to him and Emily reminding him to be completely still the entire time.

It seemed like confusion was going to be a new regular for him.

"Good," Dr. Green said. "Now, I'm really sorry about this, but we're going to need to do the CT again so that we can get a clear image and find out what's going on, alright?"

"Okay," he said, still feeling out of it. "Again?" he asked.

"It'll only take a few minutes," Dr. Green said with a smile as she instructed Blaine lay still.

"You don't think he'll seize again?" Emily asked.

Seize... Like a seizure. Blaine had had a seizure, he was starting to remember it now in all of its terrifying glory.

There were only two reasons that he could think of that people had seizures. They were epileptic or they had a serious brain injury and Blaine didn't have epilepsy.

"I certainly hope not," the doctor said quietly, and Blaine was sure he wasn't supposed to hear that.

They both left the room, leaving him alone. He knew that they were only in the next room over and it was silly of him to feel abandoned, but he did. He closed his eyes tightly, willing his body to relax so that he didn't seize again. He didn't know if it was something that could be willed away, but he prayed it was. He had enough issues in his life without becoming that awkward kid who had seizures during class.

"Alright, Blaine, we're going to get started now, okay?" Dr. Green said over the intercom and Blaine had been in the hospital enough times to know that the doctor didn't usually stand around and wait for test results personally, not for something that could possibly 'heal itself.'

"Am I dying?" he asked, his voice trembling.

"You had a seizure; it's not uncommon with a brain injury. Just relax, this will only take a few minutes," Dr. Green said, but Blaine didn't miss how she avoided the question.

True to their word, a few minutes later Dr. Green was walking back into the room with Emily on her tail, incredibly fake smiles on their faces.

"What did you see?" he asked, biting his lip nervously until the copper taste of blood was on his tongue.

"Emily is going to take you up to a room," Dr. Green said. "Hopefully your parents will be here by now."

"Give him 15 of Phenytoin and monitor him closely," Dr. Green said quietly to Emily and Blaine strained to hear their conversation, knowing that they were purposefully not telling him what they'd found. It was unfair; he was eighteen years old and had a right to know. He had a right to ask...

"I'll send Briar in to talk to his family after he gets out of surgery. Page me if he seizes again."

He could have easily demanded to know what was happening but he didn't dare ask anything. He wasn't sure he wanted the answers to the questions that were running through his head. It was all too much.

Emily helped him back onto the gurney, mindful of the splint on his leg and guided him to a room, promising that he could get changed once he got there. The hospital gown he was wearing was starting to smell and it made him feel ashamed. What grown man wets himself?

"It happens all the time with seizures, nobody is judging you," Emily said.

He was judging himself, wasn't that enough?

She brought him into a private room where his mother was pacing the floor and talking on the phone. She promptly hung up when she noticed him entering.

"Sweetheart, are you okay?" she asked, rushing to his side as the nurse moved to get him a new gown and helped him sit up to take his off.

"Is he okay?" she asked Emily again as they both helped Blaine maneuver around his clearly broken leg. It was mortifying to have his mother and a woman he barely knew undress him in such a way.

"You're aware that your son fell?" Emily asked and his mother nodded, watching as tubing was hooked up into the IV in his arm.

"His friends told me that he fell down the stairs during a performance," she said.

"_During_ the performance?" Blaine asked, his jaw dropping as he thought about an entire audience watching him faint. How humiliating was that? Nobody was ever going to trust him again. Tripping over the girls during rehearsals was one thing, but now this?

"You don't remember?" his mom asked, stroking his hair lovingly, a concerned look on her face.

"I don't really, I'm not… No, I don't remember it," he said, feeling his face heat up in shame. The last thing he wanted to do was worry his mother, but he couldn't exactly lie to her when there was apparently bad news coming.

"What's going on?" His mom asked, turning to look at Emily. "The lady at the desk said that he was getting a CT done to check for possible brain injury?"

"We did a head CT to look for any damage to his brain; we're still waiting on the results. As soon as we've got them the head of neurosurgery is going to be in to talk to you about them."

"Neurosurgery?" she asked and Blaine's hands twisted in the sheets. "Are you saying that my son is going to need brain surgery?"

"It's unclear at the moment," Emily said, grabbing some additional pillows from a closet and gently placing them under his leg to elevate it. "Right now the best thing that Blaine can do is rest up until the doctor can come in and talk to you both."

His mother slumped into a chair ungracefully, and Blaine had only ever seen her this uncomposed one other time; the night that he'd woken up in the ICU after Sadie Hawkins. Usually she was bouncy and full of energy, always smiling and annoying Blaine with her constant optimism in any situation. To see her just sitting there and not even attempting to give him a motivational speech only increased his growing anxiety.

"Is that all?" she asked, looking older than her thirty-nine years.

"His wrist was dislocated, which luckily the orthopedic surgeon was able to put into place again without surgery. He's going to need an X-Ray on his leg, but we are holding off on that until we get the results of the CT."

"Why? Why wouldn't you just do the X-Ray while you wait? Wouldn't that save time?" his mother asked, giving the nurse a suspicious look.

"Blaine had a grand mal seizure during the CT exam," Emily said and his mother let out a loud gasp that gave Blaine goosebumps. Even though he'd known about the seizure, it was so much worse to hear it vocalized. "He's fine now and we're putting him on anti-convulsants to try and prevent it from happening again, but right now he needs his rest. The X-Ray can wait. He would need the swelling to go down before we could cast his leg anyway. There's a splint on to help keep the bone immobile and we've given him something for the pain."

His mom watched in horror as Emily continued to move around him and position him so that he wouldn't jostle any of his injuries. A sling was brought out for his arm so that his wrist would be immobile until the Orthopedic surgeon could determine if he'd need a cast or not.

"Oh, Blainey," his mom said and suddenly her head was on his stomach and she was crying. He tried his best to tell her that he was going to be alright as he ran his good hand soothingly through her hair. He was growing tired and he couldn't put off sleep much longer.

"It's okay," Emily said as she pushed some medicine into his IV. "Get some sleep; we'll still be here when you wake up."

"If I wake up," he mumbled, quiet enough so that only Emily could hear him.

"When," she clarified with a playful glare. "You're not dying on me tonight. I'm not facing the wrath of your boyfriend out there."

"My boyfriend?" he asked, feeling his speech start to slur but this time due to fatigue and not a painful numbness of his tongue. Whatever she'd just given him was strong.

"The tall boy outside with the tight pants and perfect hair? He's been threatening half the staff that you'd better come out of this in one piece."

"Kurt," he whispered fondly, knowing that he was probably wearing a stupid grin on his face, but he couldn't help it. He could tell that she'd pushed some kind of pain meds into his IV and he always got embarrassingly loopy on drugs. "He's not my boyfriend."

"You adorably dense boy, there's only two kinds of people that scream at hospital staff like that, family or lovers. Don't try to tell me you guys are family."

"He's my ex," Blaine said, burrowing himself further into the blanket as his mom finally lifted her head to help tuck him in. "He broke up with me."

"There is nothing ex about the way he's yelling," Emily said with a wink. "Get some sleep, I'll be checking in on you often."

Blaine woke up early the next morning to find his mother, in the same wrinkled business suit from yesterday, reading something on her phone with bloodshot eyes.

"Mom?" he said, his voice scratchy from sleep. "Did you sleep here?"

"What do you think?" she said with a small smile. "That's what mother's do."

"Did you sleep at all?" he asked, knowing that she hadn't, but she told him that she'd slept just fine. She didn't like to worry people unnecessarily. He knew the feeling.

He gave her a kind smile. Being a teenage boy, he was never allowed to say it out loud, but he was grateful she'd stayed the night. The only thing worse than waking up in the hospital was waking up alone in the hospital.

She pulled the chair closer to his bed, careful of his IV when she pulled his good hand into both of hers.

"Kurt's picking your father up at the airport right now, they'll be here in an hour or two," she said, giving him a sad look that set off a million alarms. His mom didn't give sad looks. She didn't believe in them. She was the woman who gave lectures on the health benefits of smiling. She believed that positive thinking could change the world. She'd written two books on that belief alone.

"Kurt?" he asked, surprised because neither of his parents had ever been thrilled with Kurt and now that they were broken up they weren't even forced to try. He really must be dying if they were willing to mend the bridge with Kurt.

"He was here all night and when he asked if I needed anything… Well, it was better than your dad paying for a taxi all the way here," she said, clearly holding back tears.

"What is it?" he asked, knowing that there was something she was holding back. "What did the doctor say to you?"

"When you fell, you hit your head pretty hard," she explained carefully. "Your brain is bleeding and they need to go in and fix it."

"I'm having brain surgery?" he asked, eyes growing wide as he thought about lying on the table with somebody cutting into his brain. He'd had surgery before, on his eye, on his liver, on his appendix, even some plastic surgery on his nose after the attack so that it wouldn't heal so crookedly, and each time had been scary, but he'd never had anybody cut into his brain before. What if they messed something up and he lost all of his memories? What if he lost his ability to speak or see? What if he ended up brain dead?

"It's going to be alright, we just need to think positively," she said with a false smile.

And there it was, he thought bitterly. For a moment, for a few minutes he thought that his mother was going to talk to him like a normal person and not one of her loyal readers, but this was the same speech he got every day of his life.

"I don't want to think positively," he said, a bit hysterically. "I don't want to do this!"

"Calm down, sweetheart. It's going to be perfectly fine," she said.

"And how do you know that?" he asked. "Did you repeat ten self-affirmations as your 'Hail Mary' and now I'm magically cured?"

"Sweetheart, you need this surgery and you're going to have a good doctor in there. There's nothing to be worried about," she said.

"Right," he chuckled dangerously. "Is that why you slept here and couldn't go pick up dad yourself?"

"You're going into surgery in an hour; your dad might not even make it back in time. Of course I stayed here with you," she said, giving him a stern look.

"Can you go get me breakfast or something?" he asked, needing a moment to himself because as much as he loved his mother, if he had to hear any more of that 'positive thinking' crap, he was going to explode. There was no positive thinking with this. His brain was bleeding and the only thing that was going to save him was allowing somebody to cut into his head.

"You can't eat before your surgery," she said, sympathetically.

"Of course I can't," he grumbled as her phone went off and she moved to answer it.

"Oh hey, Coop," she answered, causing him to roll his eyes.

"You called Cooper?" he asked with a groan.

"Oh good, I'm glad you could catch such an early flight. Call your dad, Kurt should just be picking him up now but they can wait for you," she said, completely ignoring him.

"He's here?" Blaine said, throwing his head back on the pillow.

"You're going to have brain surgery," his mother said to him with a pointed look. "I called him last night."

"Of course you did," he said with a roll of his eyes. "You called everyone to come and say their last goodbyes then tried to convince me that everything was going to be fine."

"Blaine, you _are_ going to be fine," she said. "But you had a seizure and even if the doctor hadn't said you needed surgery, Cooper was still worried about you."

"Fine," Blaine said. It wasn't that he was upset to see Cooper, but the thought of his brother coming all the way out from LA to visit him in the hospital just drove the point further home—nothing about this was okay, no matter what his mother might say.

What if this really was going to be his last goodbye with everybody? What if he only had an hour left to live?

"I'm sorry about that, your brother is having a bit of a meltdown," she said to the phone again, causing Blaine to scream out in frustration at her treating him like he was some toddler throwing a tantrum over not getting to buy a lollipop. Of course, this only served to make a poor, old, unfamiliar nurse come running into the room to check on him.

"He's fine," his mom said to the nurse. "He's always been a bit dramatic."

"It's not being dramatic," he grumbled. "My brain is bleeding and I'm about to have surgery, I'm just having a bad day."

"It's alright, Dear," the older nurse said with a smile. "It's normal to be scared; they are cutting into your brain. It's a big deal."

"Thank you," he said, feeling vindicated.

"Of course you know what's scarier than having this surgery?"

He shook his head.

"Not having this surgery," she said with a smirk that reminded him too much of his grandmother's.

"Where's Nurse Emily?" he glared at her while his mother chuckled fondly in the background at him, Cooper still on the other line.

"She won't be back in until tonight," the nurse explained before leaving again.

"Wonderful," he grumbled to himself as his mother shoved her phone in his face. "What are you doing?"

"Cooper wants to talk to you," she explained.

"Why, so he can say his last goodbyes in case I don't make it?" Blaine asked.

"How in the world did your father and I manage to raise two drama queens?" she asked before forcibly putting the phone into his hand.

"You didn't have to come," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"Of course I did, baby brother," Cooper responded with his overly loud and cheerful voice. "I'm up for a part in the new Nicholas Sparks movie and this will make the perfect audition tape."

"Unbelievable," Blaine said, pulling the phone away from his ear, only to have his mom put it on speaker phone so he was forced to listen to Coop whether he wanted to or not.

"I've come to learn that predictions don't mean much. Too much lies outside of the realm of medical knowledge."

"What are you even…" he tried to cut in but Cooper just kept talking.

"A lot of what happens next comes down to you and your specific genetics, your attitude. No, there's nothing we can do to stop the inevitable, but that's not the point. The point is that you should try to make the most out of the time you have left."

"Did you just give me a monologue about death?" Blaine asked not knowing if he wanted to kill Cooper or curl up in a ball and cry.

"Cooper!" his mother yelled into the phone. "Blaine isn't dying. You're not dying," she reassured him, running a hand through his hair.

"It's Nicholas Sparks, I told you there's an audition and I'm trying to record something to give to my agent," he said.

"Emotions come and go and can't be controlled so there's no reason to worry about them," Cooper continued on and Blaine could hear the overly-dramatic tears through the phone. "That in the end, people should be judged by their actions since in the end it was actions that defined everyone."

"Please stop," Blaine grumbled.

"Just one more," he said and Blaine knew it was pointless to fight him on this. He'd just do it anyway. "Sometimes you have to be apart from the people you love, but that doesn't make you love them any less. Sometimes you love them more."

"Okay," Blaine said, grateful that he was finished.

"That last one was Nicholas Sparks but I like to think that it came from me, too. Because I really do love you, Squirt."

"I love you, too," Blaine said, unable to deny his brother that much when he'd flown all the way out here to see him on what could possibly be his last day. "But if you continue to say goodbye to me or quote some lame Miley Cyrus movie, I'll never speak to you again."

"Fair enough," he said. "I've gotta go find your boyfriend and Dad, but I'll see you soon. You'd better still be alive when I get there."

"I'll do my best," Blaine said.

"Of course he'll be alive," his mother chastised both of them before hanging up and Blaine realized that he hadn't bothered correcting Cooper when he'd called Kurt his boyfriend. It was the first time since the breakup where Blaine didn't feel an immediate need to remind people that Kurt had kicked him to the curb and they were no longer together.

He didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing?

"I, um…"

He wanted to tell his mom thank you for getting Cooper to fly out, but he couldn't exactly do that. It was part of the sibling code that you couldn't act like you liked each other or were grateful for one another, even when you were. Cooper might be overly dramatic and too much to take at times, but he wasn't completely oblivious. It wouldn't surprise him if there was no Nicholas Sparks audition and Cooper was just trying to distract him from everything that was happening. It wouldn't be the first time.

"I know," she said, taking the phone from his hand with a smile. "You're welcome."

"Dr. Briar will go in with very small instruments and stop the bleeding. It will be relatively non-invasive," Dr. Green explained to Mrs. Anderson and Blaine as she looked Blaine over one last time and began prepping him for surgery.

"You're not going to operate?" he asked, looking at her nervously. She was the first smiling face he'd seen upon waking up in the hospital, and while he knew it was forced so that he wouldn't panic, he still felt better with her than he did some random surgeon they'd met for a total of five minutes.

"I'll be in the OR with you, but Dr. Briar will be the one operating," she said. "He's an attending and I'm just a resident, you're in better hands with him."

"But you'll be there?" Blaine clarified, trying to ignore the razor that she'd just put on the tray in front of him. He didn't want to think about the bald spot he was going to have that he wouldn't be able to cover.

"I'll be in there," she said patiently as she turned on the razor and Blaine flinched at the sound of it. He knew it was silly and vain to be concerned over such a stupid thing like hair in the face of everything, but it was one more thing that was being taking away from him that he couldn't control and he hated feeling out of control.

"Have you heard from them?" Blaine asked his mother, wanting to know if Kurt had gotten back with his dad and Cooper yet. He didn't feel comfortable going into surgery without seeing them first. He'd talked to Sam and Tina earlier; reassuring both of them that he would be fine despite not quite believing that to be true, but it wasn't enough. He couldn't go into surgery without talking to Kurt. Without talking to his _family_.

"They are ten minutes away, you should be able to see them before you go in," his mom answered, squeezing onto his hand as the small patch of his hair was shaved away.

"So the surgery will fix the speech thing? It won't happen anymore?" Blaine asked what was probably the thousandth question in the last five minutes. He couldn't help it; he was nervous and couldn't help but blurt out every thought racing through his injured brain.

"The fall that you had caused bleeding and swelling in your brain, which led to the speech problems. Once we stop the bleeding and get the swelling down, it shouldn't be a problem anymore," she said.

"It didn't though," he said, confused.

"What do you mean?" Dr. Green asked.

"The fall, it didn't cause my speech problems," he said. "I had that before I fell."

"Are you sure?" Dr. Green asked. "Things can get kind of jumbled up."

"I'm sure," he said. "I was talking to Sugar before the curtain call and I just, I don't know, it was like my tongue was glued to my mouth and I couldn't move it. Sugar thought I was drunk, but I wasn't."

"And this happened before you fell?" she asked.

"I know it did. You said after I fell, I was unconscious until I got to the hospital. I know that it happened before."

Dr. Green gave him a curious look before checking his pupils again and frowning.

"Were you feeling sick at all yesterday?"

"No more than usual," he answered.

"What does that mean, how sick do you usually feel?" she asked.

"Is everything alright, Doctor?" his mom asked, concerned.

"Of course," she said. "I just want to make sure we have a complete history from Blaine before we go into surgery. Can you tell me how you were feeling yesterday?"

"I had a headache, but that wasn't new," he said.

"How often do you get headaches?"

"Almost every morning, sometimes throughout the day if it's really bad. I wake up with them around 3 or 4 in the morning," he said.

His mother gasped. "You didn't tell me that it was that bad."

Blaine shrugged, "I guess I didn't want to bother anybody. I thought it was just stress."

"So you had a headache yesterday, what else?" Dr. Green asked.

"I was feeling a bit nauseous; it's part of the headaches. They make me dizzy and it makes me sick sometimes," he explained, picking at a loose thread in the sheets.

"Have you experienced vomiting?" Dr. Green asked and Blaine nodded. "How often?"

"It comes and goes throughout the day," he explained. "I've thrown up most mornings after third period Chemistry. The smell gets to me."

Dr. Green put her hands by his ears and told him to tell her as soon as he saw her fingers, he notified her almost immediately and she frowned, almost confused.

"Hey, Blainers!" Cooper's loud voice interrupted them as everyone made their way into the room to give him a big hug. Blaine did his best to hug him back with only one functional arm. He didn't miss how Kurt stood in the back, fidgeting on his feet awkwardly, like he was going back and forth between wanting to be seen and trying not to be noticed.

"You guys made it," Blaine said with a smile, accepting a kiss on the head from his usually stoic father.

"They're just giving Blaine one last check-up before he goes into surgery," his mother explained, gesturing for Dr. Green to continue her exam, but it was hard to concentrate on his doctor when his mother was whispering to Kurt in the corner like they were old friends.

"Blaine," Dr. Green said, stealing his attention back.

"Sorry, what?"

"I asked you if you've experienced any change in behavior or mood swings recently?"

"I'm a teenager," he said with a small chuckle, unsure of where she was going with this. Why was she asking him all of this now? What did it have to do with the surgery? He'd fallen and hit his head, now it was bleeding. Who cared how his behavior was?

"Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, have you noticed a change in Blaine's behavior lately?" she asked. Both of his parents looked at each other for a moment before shaking their head.

"He's been feeling a little under the weather recently, but other than that, he's been perfectly normal," his mom answered.

"Yeah, except for the fact that he had sex with another man," Cooper said, causing Blaine's face to turn bright red as he sputtered about, unable to say anything.

"Cooper," Kurt said, his own blush filling his cheeks. "That's hardly what she's asking."

"Blaine, is that true?" his father asked, looking at him like he didn't even know him.

"I… um…" Blaine fumbled around for words before sending Cooper a warning look. He had better fix this and he'd better fix it fast or Blaine was never telling him anything of importance again.

"What?" Cooper threw his hands up in defense. "She asked if Blaine was acting weird. This is weird. The kid thinks Kurt walks on water and can do no wrong. He talks about true love and marriage while in high school and yet doesn't end up sounding crazy like most teenagers do."

Everyone in the room looked at him in confusion, unsure of where he was going with this, but Dr. Green was looking down at her clipboard and making notes. Notes about his incredibly embarrassing personal life.

"I've watched Blaine get openly hit on in very obvious ways by incredibly attractive men and he doesn't even notice it because he's too busy looking at Kurt to care," Cooper continued, not caring that everyone in the room was gaping at him and silently begging him to stop talking. "He doesn't want anybody but Kurt and then four weeks after the love of his life moves to New York, a place where Blaine will join him in less than a year, Blaine up and sleeps with another man he barely even knows."

"Cooper!" Blaine yelled, praying that his brother would shut up while he still had a shred of dignity left. It was bad enough that Kurt was in the room and had to be reminded of the horrible way in which Blaine had torn out his heart, but now his own parents knew every detail.

"I'm trying to help," Cooper said, annoyed. "She's about to operate on your brain and wants to know if there's anything wrong with you—well that is something that's seriously wrong. Like traumatic brain injury level of mistake."

Blaine threw himself back onto the bed and pulled a pillow over his face, wondering if there was a way he could bury himself in deep enough that they wouldn't be able to find him. He was humiliated.

Dr. Green pulled the pillow off of his face, saying something about the lack of oxygen flow being dangerous for him.

"Have you been acting out more recently?" Dr. Green said. "Have you experienced some lowering of inhibitions that you haven't before?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and stared blankly ahead, willing this conversation to be over quickly. At this point, he was almost praying the surgery would start so that he wouldn't have to look at Kurt's sad eyes or his parent's disappointed ones.

"It might not seem like it, but these questions are important," Dr. Green said, placing a comforting hand on his arm.

He met her eyes and knew that he should answer—that he had to answer her. Even if she thought he was crazy and there was nothing wrong with him except for the fact that he was a shitty boyfriend, he should at least give her the chance to try and help him understand what had happened. She wasn't a psychiatrist, but then again, Blaine had seen one of those a few years ago and they were a joke.

He gave her a significant look, nodding subtly over towards his parents, letting her know that he couldn't exactly answer any of her questions with his family in the room. She nodded in understanding.

"Listen, why don't you guys give Blaine and I a moment to talk. There's some embarrassing details of the surgery we need to go over and he might feel more comfortable if you're not in the room," she said with a bubbly smile and moved towards the door. His mother and father tried to protest, but despite Dr. Green's bright smile, she was a force to be reckoned with and even his mother—who had never heard the word 'no' a day in her life—was forced out.

"Tell me what's been going on," Dr. Green said as the door shut behind his family and Kurt.

"I slept with a guy I barely knew," Blaine said looking at Dr. Green and silently pleading with her to understand what he was about to tell her and not just assume he was a horrible cheating boyfriend that was looking for a way out of the doghouse. There was no way out of this one and he was a horrible cheating boyfriend, but he was honest when he said he didn't mean it.

"Were you safe?" was her first question and Blaine let out a strangled laugh.

"You know, I don't know," he said. "I remember so much of that night clearly, but it's like it wasn't me. It's how you remember a movie playing out. You want the characters to do one thing, but you have no control over them. They are playing out a story you didn't write…"

"You didn't want to have sex with him?" she asked.

"I didn't give him any indication that I didn't. In fact, I begged for it. But I don't… I don't even know how I got that guy's number," Blaine said.

"Do you know where you met the guy? Was there any chance you were drugged or forced unwillingly?" she asked, completely professionally without an ounce of judgment in her eyes.

"I wasn't drugged," he said. "When I went to his house, it was my idea and I loved it. I loved having sex with that man, it was like a switch was kicked in my brain and I couldn't feel anything except what was happening in that moment."

"Sex can do that to a person."

"This was different. It wasn't me. The boy that did those things? It wasn't me."

"So this is unusual behavior for you?" she asked.

"Unusual?" he repeated with a dark laugh. "Do you know it took me four months to kiss Kurt for the first time? It took us another seven more months before I even touched him below the belt. I knew I wanted to marry him from that very first kiss but I still waited because I believe sex means something. It's not something I just throw around. I would never just throw myself around like that. If I wanted to cheat on my boyfriend, there were better options. There were people my own age who I at least knew weren't rapists or murderers. I didn't want this and I don't understand how any part of my brain had said yes."

"Alright, I believe you," she said. "Have there been other men?"

"I don't remember," he said. "I mean, logically, I can tell you yes. I can look on my phone and see several conversations of a sexual nature in my chat log, but I don't remember having a single one of them. Yet I did."

"Teenagers do a lot of impulsive things," Dr. Green said. "It doesn't mean there's anything wrong with them. Making mistakes is part of growing up."

He could see that she was writing down his every word so he took it as a sign that even if she didn't say so, she was taking this seriously.

"They do," Blaine agreed, but not without a healthy amount of snark. "Do you want to know the kind of impulsive things I do?"

She nodded.

"I ran for student class president because the poster was hanging next to the Zombie Survival Club that I was signing up for and I thought, why not," he said. "I dress up as a superhero once a week for a school club I founded because I'm class president now and I can. There's no reason for the club other than the fact that I think it's fun so I made up some excuse about keeping the school safe so my principal would agree to it."

"Acting on sexual desire isn't always a bad thing so long as you're doing it safely," she said.

"Do you know that I spontaneously serenade people with ridiculous songs just because I know it will make them laugh?" he continued on, unable to stop now that he'd got the ball rolling.

Now that he'd opened his mouth and started talking about all the things that were wrong about his 'impulsive act' he couldn't stop the nauseous feeling in his stomach. The feeling that maybe there was something seriously wrong with him. If not physically then maybe he really did need to get put into a mental hospital because he'd been going crazy for the last few months.

"I've been drunk twice in my life and both of them have led to incredibly misguided decisions, none of which include having sex with a total stranger though or picking up old men though sexts, because even when I'm drunk I can see what a horrible idea that is. The impulsive decisions that the real Blaine Anderson makes involve Disney Channel appropriate things and getting up in the middle of the night to make my sleeping boyfriend cookies because if I watch him sleep for another minute, looking so beautiful and perfect and everything I want from the future? If I stay in that bed, I'll propose to him and he'll say yes and my mother will lose her mind because I promised not to get married until I was at least out of high school."

"You love your boyfriend," she stated, a fact, not a question.

"More than I love myself, and that's not just a silly high schooler who doesn't understand love saying that. I would die for Kurt and I gladly, happily, took that love away from him. I ripped apart the one thing we both had to hold onto and I did it without a second thought. So if you're telling me that there might be a reason for my behavior, that there might be something wrong with me besides sheer stupidity, I'd love to know."

"I don't know," she admitted honestly. "For now, we know that your brain is hemorrhaging and we need to take care of it before it can do any permanent damage."

"That's it?" he asked, shocked. "You obviously have some idea of what's going on with me or you wouldn't have asked the question."

"We need to get you into surgery. After that we can try to run some more tests and see if there isn't a reason that you've been getting headaches and been sick for so long," she said, giving him a look that said she wasn't going to argue about this.

She moved to open the door and let everybody in to hug and kiss him before going off to surgery.

"You're going to be great," his mom said with a big smile, leaning over to give him a big hug.

"You'll pull through this just like you've done everything else, Champ," his dad said.

"If this shall be our last words together, dear brother of mine who I hold closely in my heart with every breath that I…"

"Coop," Blaine cut him off with a roll of his eyes, reaching out to grab the camera from his hands. "Can you just say good luck like a normal person and not try to turn my near death experience into your next big break?"

"Good luck," he said, with an Irish accent and Blaine chose to ignore it for the time being, figuring it was the best he was going to get. As Cooper pulled him into a hug, he was happy to hear his brother whisper into his ear in his regular voice, "I love you so much. Don't die on me now, okay?"

"I'll do my best," Blaine said, pulling away with a few tears in his eyes.

Last came Kurt, shuffling to his bed, like he wasn't sure if he was welcome.

"Kurt," Blaine said the name as reverently as he always had. He didn't believe in religion, Kurt knew that, but Blaine had always believed in people. He'd placed his faith in the two of them—in Kurt—and that would never change despite the mistakes Blaine had made.

"You have to be okay," Kurt said, biting his bottom lip and reaching out to squeeze Blaine's hand. "Promise me that you'll be okay."

"I'm not okay," he admitted. "I won't be okay until I know that you forgive me."

"You don't want my forgiveness," Kurt said sadly. "Not like this at least. You want me to say it's okay because I mean it, not because I'm scared that I'll never see you again."

Blaine nodded in understanding, even though he could feel the tears starting to fall down his face. "I love you," he whispered as Dr. Green began pushing him out of the room and towards the Operating Room that would decide his fate.


	3. Chapter 2

You have to be okay.

Blaine, we need you to count backwards from ten.

He could wake up any time, but the longer it takes...

Sweetheart, you're going to wake up. You're going to be fine.

Wake up, Blainers. Please, please wake up. We're all going a little crazy here.

I love you, Blaine. I'm so sorry I didn't tell you that before. I was so angry, but it doesn't matter. I love you, okay? Wake up.

You have to be okay.

You have to be okay.

Blaine's mind started floating back into consciousness at the feeling of affectionate hands running through his hair. His brain was muddled and his head felt about five sizes too big so he didn't attempt to open his eyes, but that didn't stop him from calling out.

"Kurt?" his voice was rough, there was no telling how long he'd been asleep for.

"Sorry to disappoint, Casanova."

Cooper. Of all the people he'd expected to find holding vigil at his deathbed, Cooper wasn't one of them. Not without some sort of personal benefit.

"Don't film me," he grumbled.

"If you'd let me get you on morphine you could be the next YouTube sensation. A lot of careers have started on YouTube, Squirt."

"Don't call me Squirt," he argued half-heartedly, not having the energy for much else.

"I'm just saying you should think about your career. If that kid from Sing can make it after singing Disney songs online, so can you."

"Mom? Dad?" he called out, unable to bring himself to ask the full question because what little he'd already said had worn him out.

"Mom finally went home for a quick shower and change of clothes after I threatened to film her and put it online," Cooper said, pausing for whatever laugh track was running in his head—ever the performer. "Dad's outside talking with the insurance company."

Blaine nodded, grimacing at the way it felt like his head was put through a garbage disposal with such a small movement. There was no way he was opening his eyes if this was the kind of pain waiting for him.

"Aren't you going to ask about your old ball and chain?"

"Not mine," he whispered, about to fall back asleep. He'd exhausted too much energy talking to Cooper for the two minutes he'd been awake.

"Not even the Enquirer is buying that story," Cooper teased, but Blaine was asleep before he could even think of defending himself.

"I'm just saying... point in worrying him... we know more," he heard his mother arguing with somebody but he couldn't pull himself out of his semi-conscious state enough to catch the whole argument.

"You...well as I do how stressed... make him, you can't tell him."

Kurt. Kurt was there and for once he wasn't arguing against his mother, he was siding with her. Over what?

"—er. He's going to find out!" Cooper yelled, causing Blaine's brain to scramble and try to painfully reassemble itself.

He groaned out in pain.

"Hey, Champ," his dad said. "How are you feeling?"

"Do you think he heard us?" Kurt whispered, oblivious to the fact that Blaine could hear him. He could hear everything. Even the smallest of sounds echoed loudly in his head and made him wonder if he was going to be sick.

"There was yelling," he said, taking a deep breath and willing the nausea to pass. He had enough experience as of late to usually be able to suppress the need to vomit.

"Sorry about that. You know how passionate I can get when I'm practicing a scene," Copper explained.

Blaine cracked one eye open, hating the way the sun was shining too bright into the room but he was growing sick of darkness. Besides, he couldn't very well find out what was going on if he kept falling asleep.

"How long?" he asked, wanting to know how long it had been since his surgery had happened. With the way his head was aching, it felt like the doctors were still scraping out parts of his brain.

"It's Monday morning," his mom said. "You've been in and out for a little over a day."

Monday morning. It felt at once like it had been seconds ago since the anesthesiologist had him counting backwards from ten and years at the same time. The voices he'd heard, the ones that were too real to be dreams but too far away to latch onto... The time had passed by without him, like he'd been frozen in ice, hearing the whole world happening around him but unable to thaw out.

Was that a Captain America reference? He was spending too much time with Sam.

"Monday?" The word was a square block that should have fit through a round hole but as much as he tried to push it through it was stuck. His brain was blocked over the simplest of things. The day of the week.

"Are you okay? Do you want some water or maybe some ice chips or something?" Kurt asked and his gentle voice managed to break down the roadblock in Blaine's mind and things made sense again.

Today was Monday. Kurt was here, but it was Monday. He'd been in town for the weekend, but the weekend was over. He had missed his flight home and now he wouldn't been back in time for work at his fancy city job.

"You should be in New York," he tried to sound commanding, but the fatigue only allowed him to whisper, making him sound needy. He couldn't hide the fact that as much as he knew he wasn't allowed to, he just wanted Kurt to stay there with him until the Earth-shattering pain was gone. If Kurt wanted to stay with him after the Earth-shattering pain was gone, that would be great, too.

You can't ask him for things like that. You broke him, he reminded himself.

"Isabelle is doing this column on how fashion adapts across the country so I'll be working from here for a few more days and thought I'd visit," Kurt said.

"Liar." Blaine had always been able to tell when Kurt wasn't being truthful even if getting the truth out of him was significantly more difficult. Kurt wasn't hard to read once you understood how to translate his actions.

Kurt shushed him affectionately but didn't try to defend himself.

"Blaine's only supposed to have two visitors at a time," Emily said, making her way into the room and over to the bed to check his vitals.

"I'll just go check in with everyone else and let them know how he's doing—"

"I should call Grandma with an update—"

Kurt and Cooper said, making to move but Blaine reached out, hoping they'd stay. For some reason there was something screaming at him to keep them close. He knew it was an irrational fear, the surgery was over and everything was downhill from this point, but that didn't stop his throat from starting to close up as tears filled his eyes.

"They aren't bothering me, do they have to leave?" he whined.

"You're still recovering from major surgery and can't stay awake longer than 10 minutes at a time. You don't need all this excitement," she explained as she listened to his lungs. His chest was rising and falling rapidly and she threatened him with a breathing mask to replace his nasal cannula if he didn't calm down soon.

"They'll be just outside, Sweetheart," his mother said. "They aren't leaving the hospital."

Blaine ignored her and stuck out his bottom lip but Emily was unflappable and he was forced to say goodbye. Cooper left with a half wave, but Kurt took the time to come over and kiss him on the forehead before leaving — promising to be back later.

"Oh no, totally not dating," Emily teased him once Kurt left.

"Well, certainly not if you send him away every time he's willing to be in the same room as me," he grumbled, trying to ignore the clawing at his heart that told him something wasn't right. His family had been arguing before he woke up, no matter what bullshit Cooper said about running lines.

"Do you know how much longer Dr. Briar will be? They said he would be by after Blaine's surgery?" his dad asked.

"He got pulled into emergency surgery. It'll be at least another few hours. I'm sorry, I know you're anxious for some news," she apologized.

"News?" he asked, feeling like they were having a conversation he wasn't invited to which was made all the more annoying because they were talking about him. Did they think he wouldn't notice? Or that he'd just be too dumb to ask?

"Just want to know when we can take you home," his mother said with a warning smile at his dad and he knew he was missing something vital but there was no point in trying to get it out of his mom, who they all nicknamed Fort Knox because she was a brick wall when it came to sheltering her kids from negativity. He'd just wait for the next time he was alone with Cooper, he was notoriously bad at keeping secrets.

"What's your pain level?" Emily asked.

He always felt like these questions were a test he couldn't possibly pass. How could he really judge his pain on such a scale? What did the doctors consider a ten? Would Blaine consider it a ten? If he said too high of a number did that mean he'd never go home? If he said too low of a number would they take the meds away?

Every word still echoed in his head and he felt as if his head was stuck inside of a dryer, but it was better than before at least. There was no winning answer in this.

Nine felt too high, like he would use up all of his leverage and nobody would believe him if the pain got worse than it was now. Four was way too low for the way everything rattled inside of him. Six? Six felt safe.

"Six?" he said, hesitantly.

"Which in Blaine-speak probably means he's at least a seven, likely an eight," his father said.

"I've gathered that much on my own," Emily said with a playful smirk. "Dr. Green said that you'd been sick for several weeks and didn't get checked out. You barely told anyone."

"Thought it was just a cold," he said with a heavy sigh. He was starting to wake up more and felt some energy returning. Though it wasn't much, it was more than he'd had before.

He blushed and cowered under her judgmental look. Even if she was only teasing him, he hated that feeling of potentially disappointing somebody.

"Well, there's no use hiding anything from me," Emily said. "Your vitals will tell me a lot of what I need to know, and even if you try to lie and say your pain level is only a one, you're stuck here for at least two more days. You might as well be truthful so I can give you the appropriate amount of drugs. Deal?"

"It's only a six," he said, this time more sure of himself. "It was a lot worse earlier. It doesn't hurt so much to open my eyes now. Still feels like something is trying to claw its way out of there."

"That's pretty normal and will go away with some time. You sound like you've got more energy than the past few times I've checked you out, that's good," she said and Blaine wondered just how many times that had been. His mother had said he was in and out since the surgery but he didn't remember waking up more than two or three times. He supposed that was normal with the amount of drugs they were giving him.

"I'm gonna have you try and drink a few sips of water for me, is that okay?"

Blaine nodded. He'd been given ice chips earlier for his throat, but they hadn't yet let him actually drink anything. He knew this was a test in and of itself, to see if he was healing properly. He just hoped it was one he could pass. He didn't need to fail at anything else. The guilt of letting Kurt down and now his family was pressing hard enough as it was.

She held the glass up to his lips and waited for him to nod before she slowly tipped a small amount into his mouth. He quickly swallowed it, grabbing for more, but she pulled the glass out of his reach.

"Slowly," she warned. "You don't want to make yourself sick."

She let him finish two small glasses of water, taking a lot more time than it should, but he was grateful for something to drink. What he really wanted was to eat some food, but he knew it would be awhile before they let him eat anything besides broth and liquids.

"Well, Blaine looks like he's healing up nicely," Emily said, giving him a warm smile. "Dr. Briar will be in whenever his surgery finishes up, but it might be awhile. If you need anything, just press the call button."

"Thank you," his father said, walking her out the door. "I'm gonna go check in with the office and let them know I won't be in all week."

"Try and get Kurt to go home for a few hours," his mom said.

"Kurt hasn't been home?" Blaine asked, trying not to sound... however it was he was sounding. Hopeful? Worried? Whatever emotions he was feeling towards Kurt were emotions he wasn't allowed to feel anymore.

"His dad's been bringing him clothes," his mom shook her head. "He's been sleeping in the lobby; he doesn't listen whenever people tell him he needs to rest."

"Kurt's mom died in a hospital after a routine surgery. She got an infection and was gone before his dad could even get Kurt to the hospital to say goodbye," he said before he even realized what he was saying.

"Blaine—"

"Kurt doesn't think I'm dying, does he?" he asked. "The surgery is over. I'm fine. I'm going to be fine, right?"

"Of course you are," she said with a smile that didn't come close to reaching her eyes.

"Go get him for me," he said.

"Your dad's going to get him to head out," she said.

"He's not going to," he said. "I'm probably the only one that can convince him it's okay to leave for a few hours. Just go get him for me. He shouldn't be out there miserable and worrying over me. I've put him through enough already."

"Whatever you think you need," she said and left to go get Kurt.

Blaine closed his eyes and tried to piece together all the secrets that they were hiding from him. Kurt was putting off going back to New York. Cooper was yelling at his mother over something she wasn't telling Blaine. Kurt agreed with his mother, so Blaine knew it had to be bad enough if Kurt thought the news would break him. It was one thing when his mother shielded him from the truth; she still refused to tell him that Santa Claus wasn't real even after he'd told her that dad had already broken the news to him years ago. Kurt didn't believe in hiding though. So for him to be doing this...

"You rang?" Kurt said, standing in the doorway and looking even more amazing now that Blaine knew he'd been sleeping in the hospital for the last three days.

"You don't need to stay here for me," he lied; his stomach twisted into knots at the thought of Kurt leaving even for a few minutes time.

"I work for Vogue.com, Blaine. There's this newfangled thing called the Internet? It's everywhere," Kurt said playfully, though Blaine could hear the slight edge behind it. They weren't on joking terms yet, but Kurt was trying hard to be. "And I told you, Isabelle gave me an assignment out here."

"You don't have more interesting things to be doing in New York?" he asked, bitter all of the sudden. Maybe it was the way Kurt had to try too hard for things to be okay between them. They never had to try at being friends. Their relationship had always come as naturally as breathing and Blaine had ruined that.

"Why? Do you want me to leave so your other boyfriends can come give you a quickie in the bathroom?" Kurt spat out and the words hurt. They were well deserved, but they hurt.

"I don't have a boyfriend, not anymore," he whispered, looking down at the cheap, fraying hospital blanket because he was too ashamed to meet Kurt's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Kurt said. "That was rude. I know I'm not supposed to get mad at you. Dr. Green said you couldn't help it, I just... It's hard."

He couldn't help it? What was Kurt talking about?

"I don't understand."

"It wasn't your fault," Kurt said, flippantly. "Apparently you couldn't help but allow some muscled college boy to fuck you into a mattress, so enjoy your 'Get Out of Jail Free' card."

He waved Blaine off like it wasn't a big deal when he'd been ignoring Blaine for weeks because of it. He'd de-friended him on Facebook for God's sake and now he was acting like it was nothing?

"I don't want a 'Get Out of Jail Free' card," he said, feeling all the more confused. He wanted to talk about things. He wanted to apologize and be heard for once. He needed Kurt to believe that he meant it. He wanted forgiveness, not for everything to get brushed under the rug like it never happened.

"Kurt, what's going on?"

Kurt looked like he was going to say more. He opened and closed his mouth several times before shaking his head in defeat. Blaine couldn't help but let out a frustrated growl. How were they ever going to get anywhere if Kurt wouldn't talk to him?

"I should go home and shower or something," Kurt said, walking away before he could say goodbye.

Blaine threw his head back on the pillow and clawed at his head, willing the pain away so he could feel something besides the splitting pain. Kurt had been right there. After weeks of ignoring him, he was finally there for Blaine to talk to and all he'd managed to do was run him off again and he couldn't even feel his heartbreak because his body was too focused on the hole that had been drilled into his skull.

"Ahh!" he screamed out, throwing his bandaged wrist over his eyes to block out the light. He just wanted it all to stop so he could get back to being a normal, brooding teenager.

"Did you need something?" Emily peeked her head in with a sympathetic look, like she'd been watching him the whole time and knew how pathetic he was.

"What's wrong with me?" he whined.

"Dr. Briar should be in soon to check you out—"

"No, I mean what's wrong with me?" he yelled into the room.

At this rate, he was surprised his mother hadn't come running in. Perhaps she recognized that her son was hopeless. Maybe she'd run off along with Kurt. He wouldn't blame her. He was a pretty shitty son and at the rate he got hospitalized, he knew he was an expensive kid to care for. Maybe it was best if everyone just gave up on him and left him here alone. At least that way he couldn't mess anyone else's life up again.

"You're a teenager; you're supposed to ask yourself these kinds of questions. If you don't make your mistakes now you're going to be that thirty year old man that still lives with his parents and can't ever get past the first date. Trust me; everyone's a mess when they're eighteen."

"But how do I fix it?" he asked.

"I can't give you the answers, that's cheating," she teased.

"Kurt left," he said, though he's pretty sure that she saw him leave considering how little time it took her to reach his room.

"He'll be back," she comforted him. "He's probably just pissed that your blond friend keeps arguing with him."

"My blond friend?" he asked, unsure of who she was referring to.

"The one with the muscles and the big lips? Your mom totally thinks he's the one that you slept with."

"She what? You're talking about Sam? Why is Kurt fighting with Sam? They're friends," he said.

He couldn't even begin to understand what those two could possibly have against each other. Kurt was the one who kept Sam's secret sophomore year when Sam's family was homeless and he'd even given him clothes to wear, despite the personal hardships it caused Kurt at school. Sam had even been living at the Hummel-Hudson's house during the school year so he could attend McKinley. Those two were friends long before Blaine ever learned how to get along with Sam. It made no sense.

"I'll give you one good guess what they are fighting over," she said with a pointed look.

"I don't—me?" he asked, surprised.

"Congrats, it looks like your head injury didn't affect your intelligence," she teased.

"But Sam would befriend a mountain lion if it would listen to his impressions. He gets along with everyone, this doesn't make any sense. Why would they be fighting over me?" he asked.

"Why would two incredibly good looking men be fighting over another painfully adorable heartthrob who just had brain surgery?"

"Sam's straight," he replied, knowing where she was going with this.

"So you didn't sleep with him?"

"No," he argued. "Why? Does Kurt think I slept with him?"

"I think his exact words were So he's sleeping with you, too, why else would you care so much all of a sudden?"

How could Kurt possibly think that he would sleep with Sam? Sure Blaine had done a lot of uncharacteristic things lately, but Sam? Kurt knew that Sam was straight and if Blaine was going to cheat on him, he would at least have the decency to not do it with the boy that was sleeping in Kurt's house.

"Sam's dating Brittany," he said defensively at her knowing smirk. "We're just friends."

"Well, regardless, Kurt and Sam can't even sit near each other without getting into a fight," she said.

"How come I haven't heard about any of this?"

"Because nobody brings the drama into patient rooms," she explained. "Everyone knows if you want to know how people are really doing, you have to watch them in the lobby."

"Well, you're not afraid to tell me," he said with a small chuckle, noticing that his pain level had slightly decreased as he'd been talking to her. Emily was really good at distracting him from his suffering.

"Why would I be?" she asked. "It's not like you're going to break. You're one of the strong ones, I can tell."

"How?"

"Because you've been living with intense migraines for months and didn't feel the need to bother anybody with them," she said. "If my pain level ever hits above a three, I'm crying to anybody that will listen and ordering my boyfriend to bring me ice cream."

"Will you tell me what's wrong with me?" he asked.

"I think that's a conversation best left to Dr. Briar. I'm just a nurse," she said.

"Since when is a nurse ever just a nurse?" he pressed, but knew it wasn't any use. He would find out what was going on whenever Dr. Briar decided to come around.

"Charming," she said. "I can see why everyone loves you so much. Now get some rest. You've already been up much longer than you're used to."

He hadn't noticed how tired he was, but as soon as Emily lowered his bed, he was out cold.

"What isn't Mom telling me?" Blaine asked Cooper later on that afternoon once his parents had stepped out to get something to eat from the cafeteria.

"You know how she gets," he brushed him off with a wave of his hands and he continued to flip through the channels on TV. "She thinks you'll spiral out of control with the slightest breath of news that isn't positive—How this guy has steady work and I don't is beyond me," he complained as he stopped on a re-run of How I Met Your Mother.

"Neil Patrick Harris? You're putting yourself in the same category as Neil Patrick Harris?" Blaine asked with a laugh. Cooper held himself in high regard, but he had to be joking with this one, right?

"No, not NPH. Though I still think with enough work I could get there. I'm talking about Ted... I mean, does anybody even know his real name? Is he in anything besides this show? How is he working and I'm not?" Cooper complained.

Blaine had to admit, Cooper might have a point. While his brother was a bit overdramatic and overacted pretty much all the time, it wasn't like Josh Radnor was anything special.

"You could have played Marshall," Blaine said, not exactly believing his words but feeling kind enough to say them anyway. Sometimes Cooper just needed to hear that he was good enough after constantly being told 'no' audition after audition.

"Thanks."

"So what breath of news does she think is going to make me spiral?" Blaine asked, returning them back to the original topic. They only had so much time before their parents would be back and Blaine would be unable to get any information out of anyone.

"I was forbidden from telling you," he said.

"Which makes it all the more exciting when you do," Blaine argued, knowing how to twist Cooper to his will.

Cooper sighed deeply before muting the TV and turning to glare at him, completely aware that Blaine was manipulating him into talking. Still, he could see Cooper had given in and decided to tell him what he wanted to hear.

"The doctor's found a tumor when they were operating on you," he said.

A tumor? Like cancer? That couldn't be right.

"A tumor—When they were—It was just there? Why wasn't it—But the CAT scan?" His words all rushed out of him, not even bothering to finish a thought before moving onto the next one.

"I guess it was in a difficult place to detect or something and they weren't looking for it in your scan since they didn't know you had a history of issues until you said so," Cooper said with a shrug as if the medical side of things was too much for him to remember it all.

"Until you said so," Blaine clarified, not forgetting how Cooper had thrown him under the bus in front of everyone by bringing up how he'd slept with somebody else.

"Exactly," he nodded, completely unfazed by Blaine's glare. "Well, they realized that you had more going on than a brain hemorrhage, so they looked closer at the scan and had to take a biopsy during your surgery. We've been waiting on the results; that's why Mom and Dad are so on edge."

"A biopsy? To see if I have cancer?" he asked, but he knew that's exactly what it was. What else would they have done if they found a tumor in his brain?

Oh, God. He had brain cancer. He must have looked panicked because Cooper was on his feet and trying to grab for a million things at once to help him out—water, the breathing mask, gesturing towards the call button.

"What do you need?" Cooper asked, moving around helplessly as Blaine turned away everything he offered.

"Cancer?" he said, though he knew that wasn't even a complete question, it was the only thing he could get to come out of his mouth.

"You might not," Cooper added in with a hopeful grin, like that would help anything.

"They didn't take the tumor out? It's still in there?" he asked.

He still had a tumor in his brain. One that was diseased and possibly growing, eating up other healthy parts of him. Pretty soon he was going to be left with nothing. He was going to be brain dead or something. Was that how it worked?

"There's only so much of this medical talk I understand, despite being an extra on Grey's Anatomy for three weeks. They couldn't remove the tumor without your consent before and I guess now they are worried about losing some vital brain function so they are waiting," Cooper said, which did nothing but make him more stressed out.

"Vital — I'm going to be sick," he said, and before Cooper could even reach for a bedpan, he was leaning over the bed and vomiting all over the floor.

"See, this is what Mom was talking about," Cooper said in that obnoxious I'm wiser than you tone that only an older brother could perfect. He reached over and pressed the call button. "You're lucky you didn't barf on my new shoes."

"I should have," he grumbled as a nurse he didn't recognize came in and helped clean up the mess he made and asked him about his pain level.

Blaine gritted his teeth and let the poor girl check all of his vitals and had to dig his nails into his fists to keep from screaming at the woman. His anger had nothing to do with her, he reminded himself. He was just scared and lashing out would do nothing to ease that fear.

"I fell down the stairs, Coop," he said as soon as she left them. "I can't have cancer. That doesn't give you cancer." He looked up at his older brother with what must have been a pathetic expression, because Cooper looked more broken than Blaine had ever seen him before.

"You've been sick for awhile—" Cooper explained as he tried to hold his tears back.

Blaine couldn't remember the last time Cooper honestly cried. He endured the fake, dramatic tears on almost a weekly basis, but this wasn't for a scene. This was his older brother looking lost at being unable to stop Blaine's suffering. This was Cooper at a loss for words to say which might be another first for him.

"With the flu," he said desperately, as if saying it loud enough would somehow make it true. "It was the flu! That's it!"

"I'm not really the best person to be talking about this with," Cooper said, floundering. "Do you want to practice my monologue with me?"

"What? No! Cooper, when were you guys going to tell me about this?" he asked. He hadn't realized he was crying until he tasted the salt water on his lips.

"I wanted to," Cooper said, unable to keep the tears back any longer. God they must have been a sight, the two of them crying in that hospital room with How I Met Your Mother playing silently in the background. "That's what Mom and I had been arguing about when I cleverly convinced you that I was practicing for a role."

"I never believed you were practicing for a role," he growled out of spite, though he didn't really mean to come off so harsh.

That was just how things went with siblings. They were there to take all of your worst and still loved you unconditionally in the end. It was the one thing Blaine was grateful for. While soulmates apparently could leave you whenever things got rough, family was forever. He never thought that Cooper would be the guy he ended up depending on more than Kurt, but there it was.

"Maybe I should go get somebody else—"

"NO!" he yelled. "You can't leave. You're the only one not lying to me. You stay. You're not allowed to leave this hospital room until I do."

"Oh, can we make a reality show about it? We could sell it for millions," Cooper said, already pulling out his camera until Blaine smacked it away.

"Coop, focus."

"Defcon Five, right. Got it," he said.

"What am I going to do?" Blaine asked, not really expecting an answer back. There wasn't an answer.

"Relax," Cooper said. "Even if you do have cancer, they can cure that. You'll get some chemo and lose your hair—"

"I don't want to lose my hair—" he whined but Cooper ignored him and just kept talking.

"You'll have a really great story to tell in your first Behind the Music special. Audiences eat cancer stories up."

"I hate you so much right now," Blaine said, but they both knew that wasn't true.

"You'll get over it," he smirked. "Hate is a passionate emotion and passion never lasts forever."

"Are you physically incapable of giving good advice? Is anything you say ever not bullshit?" Blaine asked.

"Wow, that tumor's made you kind of an asshole," Cooper whined, slumping back in his chair and turning the volume back up, presumably so he could try to ignore Blaine.

"Oh, God, do I really have a tumor?" he asked, trying to let the information sink but it wouldn't. It wasn't the truth. It couldn't be. Eighteen year old kids weren't supposed to get cancer. That's not how the world was supposed to work.

"On the bright side, now you have an excuse for cheating on Kurt," Cooper said, which was probably supposed to make him feel better but the reminder only added to his stress. "I don't think he's really even mad anymore. You're off the hook thanks to the deathtrap in your head."

"I don't want to be off the hook. I cheated on him!" Blaine groaned.

"What are you boys arguing about?" his mother asked, walking into the room and glaring at Cooper. "Your brother needs to relax. Don't get him worked up."

"Actually, we were just having a discussion about the brain-eating tumor you failed to mention to me," Blaine said, daring her to contradict what Cooper had said. He wouldn't put it past her to make up some story about how it wasn't true. That was the last thing he wanted to hear, mostly because he needed to not have a tumor. He needed this to all be a joke and if she said he was fine, he would be crushed when he found out it wasn't. So he dared her to try and contradict Cooper.

"I told you not to tell him," she hissed at Cooper.

"Well, he knows now," Cooper said with a shrug, completely cool under his mother's heated glare. He didn't know how his brother did it; she always had him quivering in fear when she looked at him like that.

"For all we know, it could be benign and now you've worked him up for nothing," she said, moving to sit at the edge of his bed to run her fingers through his hair. "We just didn't want to stress you out until we knew more," she said to him.

The only thing he could think of in response came seemingly out of nowhere, "I don't want to die."

That night, the Anderson's all crammed into Blaine's small hospital room and pretended to watch a movie while they waited for Dr. Briar to stop by with Blaine's biopsy results. Emily had warned him that even though there had been a rush put on his test results, the lab often got backed up and it was entirely possible that they wouldn't have any news tonight. Still, Blaine was looking forward to being actively involved in his care from now on and he was doing his best not to fall asleep on his mother's shoulder while they waited. It would be just his luck to sleep through Dr. Briar's meeting and though Emily promised him that nobody would let that happen, he didn't believe that to be true.

"They're showing more commercials than they are movies," his dad grumbled as the movie cut to another break.

"Commercial actors deserve equal screentime," Cooper chirped up from where he was slumped in a chair playing Jungle Run on his phone. He'd been obsessed with the game ever since Blaine had shown it to him on his last visit home.

"Well, I'm sick of this," his dad said. "I'm changing the channel."

"Don't," his mom said. "Blaine likes Hugh Jackman."

His dad turned to him and gave him a strange look, almost interested, which was another sign of this tumor completely uprooting his life and making everyone completely unrecognizable because his dad had never shown interest in hearing about his love life—even if it was just about a celebrity crush.

"It's okay, you can change it. I've seen this one about a hundred times," Blaine said, blushing under his parents' dual gaze. They had been doing that a lot lately, just staring at him like it was the first time they were seeing him.

More like the last, he reminded himself sadly.

"When you get out of here, we should plan that trip to Puerto Princesa we've been putting off," his dad said. "Your mom's been wanting to take you boys back to see her family for years but we've all been too busy."

Blaine was going to say that it wasn't such a bad idea. He could stand to get away from things for a while and he'd always heard about how beautiful the Philippines were from his mother, though he'd never been able to see for himself. She hadn't been back home since before Blaine was born. There had been a trip when Cooper was younger, but once Blaine came along everyone's schedules seemed to get crazy and there was always the ever constant promise that they would go the next year.

"Bill," his mother cut him off with a warning look. "Let's not talk about this right now."

Which everyone knew was her way of saying that they wouldn't be talking about it ever.

Great, so he had one parent trying to check off items from a bucket list and another one that was likely never going to let him do anything ever again. Blaine was pretty sure if she could get away with it that he'd be wrapped in bubble wrap and never allowed to leave his room.

A knock at the door had them all looking up in both relief and dread as Dr. Briar and Dr. Green made their way into the room.

"We're sorry to have kept you all waiting so long," Dr. Briar apologized. "It looks like Blaine's feeling a bit better?"

Blaine nodded and pushed off his mom so he could sit up straight by himself, trying to make himself look more mature. Like somebody that could be trusted with the whole truth.

"How's the pain level?" Dr. Green asked cheerfully as she moved to listen to his chest and check over his vitals despite the fact that Emily had just checked on him ten minutes earlier.

"About a five? The meds have helped a lot," he said, honestly in his most put together voice. A voice he hadn't really had a use for since leaving Dalton.

"You seem pretty energetic, have you been feeling tired at all?" she asked, checking off several boxes in her notepad.

"I've had to take a few naps throughout the day, but I feel okay," he said.

"Good, that's great. Any lightheadedness?"

"Some," he said.

"He got sick earlier," Cooper chimed in, causing Blaine to roll his eyes.

"I did say some," Blaine clarified, glaring at his brother.

"Well, that's to be expected," Dr. Briar said, effectively cutting off Dr. Green's endless stream of questions. It seemed pretty harsh, but then again, Blaine remembered that most of the answers to her questions could be found in his chart.

"We've got Blaine's biopsy results back," he said.

"And?" Cooper asked. Blaine could see him clutching at his chair until his knuckles were white. He was clutching at his blanket and he hadn't looked down, but he was sure his own were white as well.

"The tumor is malignant," Dr. Briar said matter of factly, but he at least had the decency of looking regretful.

"What does that mean?" his dad asked.

"I have cancer," Blaine answered for him, his voice remarkably strong, though that was probably the denial talking. He felt like he was watching the scene unfold on the TV instead of in front of him. It was certainly easier to believe they were talking about some other patient instead of himself.

"The cancer is growing fairly rapidly. Dr. Green has scheduled an MRI and I'd like to do a spinal tap just to be safe. We won't know how advanced or widespread the cancer is until we can get a better look at it," Dr. Briar explained.

"I don't understand," his mother cut him off with a wave of her hand. "You gave my son a CT scan on Friday and you told me that he had a brain hemorrhage. Now you're telling me that he has cancer?"

"I understand your frustration—" Dr. Briar said in a calming voice that he knew would only fuel his mother's anger.

"How do I even know that we can trust you if you can't even read his test results properly?" she asked, causing Blaine to blush in embarrassment.

"Mom, just let him talk, please," he begged, praying that she wouldn't cause a scene.

"When Blaine came into the ER, we were unaware of any symptoms previous to his fall. Blaine was unable to communicate and the friends he came with didn't mention any issues he'd been having so we didn't know to look for a possible tumor. For time's sake, we ordered a CT scan without contrast because it can take a good hour before one with contrast can be done. We were worried about the pressure on Blaine's brain due to the bleeding so we performed the quickest test we had available, sadly it was the one that was least likely to pick up the tumor."

His mother scoffed in disbelief, but thankfully didn't say anything more.

"You did have a brain hemorrhage like we originally said and we've managed to take care of that, which should help relieve some of the pressure on your brain for awhile while we run more tests to see how far the cancer's progressed," Dr. Briar said.

"But you're hopeful right?" Cooper asked. "Whatever you find out, you can still fix this?"

"It's hard to say anything right now without some more information," Dr. Green said, sympathetically. "We'd like to get Blaine down for an MRI now if you're feeling up to it?"

"That's fine," he said before his mother cut him off.

"Can we have a few minutes alone please?" she asked, effectively kicking the doctors out of the room.

"Mom!" Blaine practically yelled, horrified as she shut the door behind the doctors.

"We need to find a different doctor before we proceed any further," she said.

"What? No, I'm fine," he said, shaking his head. Was she seriously doing this?

"If you really do have cancer—and that's a big if at this point—I want you to be seen by somebody that can at least read your test results properly," she said.

"Dr. Briar just said you can't see all tumors on a CT scan. In fact, if that's the case, we're lucky they even found my tumor at all," he argued. "If anything, you should be thanking them."

"Why? For giving you brain surgery before they even knew what was wrong with you?" she asked, clearly reaching a new level of hysteria that he'd never seen before. His dad was sitting quietly in the corner, unwilling to interfere. They all knew what she was like when she got like this, which was how Blaine found himself fighting this battle alone.

"It's not like they made this hemorrhage up," he said. "I fell down the stairs and hit my head. They had to control the bleeding in my brain before there was any permanent damage. Even if they knew I had a tumor, I would have still had a surgery to stop the bleeding."

"You're my baby," she said as if that somehow justified all of her crazy behavior. "I'm allowed to be concerned."

"Of course you are," he said, doing what he could to pacify her so she would just calm down enough to let the doctors do their job. "But if you're that concerned, you should let them do the MRI so they can help me."

"Fine," she grumbled. "But I'm Googling this without contrast thing because it still sounds like a load of shit."

"What happened to thinking positively?" he asked.

"Oh, Sweetheart, I'm not saying you're not going to be okay," she said. "I know whatever it is, you'll be just fine. I just want to make sure you've got the best possible care you can have."

The one bright side to his mother going completely crazy was that Blaine didn't really have time to process the fact that he had cancer before Dr. Green was taking him down for an MRI.

The next few hours were spent trying to get some rest after the stressful MRI and a rather uncomfortable spinal tap. The night past by in a bit of a blur, with Blaine constantly waking up with a headache from the spinal tap. He was sick a few more times throughout the night, but thankfully by morning he was feeling at least halfway human.

"Your mom's crying in the hallway," Kurt said from the doorway, causing Blaine to look up in surprise.

He hadn't expected Kurt to come back after waiting all day yesterday for him to show up again. He'd assumed Kurt had caught a flight back to New York or something, but there he stood, looking completely dreadful.

He's preparing for bad news, Blaine thought to himself, wishing more than anything he had something good to tell him instead. He'd had enough bad news in hospitals; he didn't want to have to tell him that he might be dying as well.

Blaine just nodded, causing Kurt's frown to set in deeper as if he knew what was coming next. Cooper stood up from where he was playing on his phone in the corner and excused himself, giving the two of them some privacy.

"I have cancer," he said, not knowing any other way to say it than to just say it.

"No," Kurt shook his head in disbelief.

"They told me last night."

Kurt stood by the doorway, frozen in shock. Blaine didn't know what to say to him, he was pretty sure there wasn't anything that could be said if the way his mother kept bursting into tears every time Blaine tried to comfort her was any indication.

"Did they say what they were going to do to treat it?" Kurt asked, his voice strong. Blaine he recognized it.

It was the sound of Kurt building up a wall around himself so that he could be brave when inside he was feeling like a mess. It was the same voice that stood up in front of a gymnasium full of kids and got coronated. It was the same voice that told Sebastian they would love to go to Scandals. This was the Kurt that survived the mess that was his student council president elections, Blaine's eye surgery, a NYADA rejection and recently Blaine's cheating by steeling himself off from the world so he wouldn't have to feel anything too much.

Blaine hated that voice because it meant Kurt was hurting and there wasn't anything he could do to stop it because Kurt wouldn't admit there was something wrong when he got like this. Not that he could fix this even if Kurt would let him. Cancer wasn't something that could be cured with cheesecake and a viewing of Titanic.

"They are still running tests and stuff to see if they even can," he said.

Kurt's head shot up at the realization that Blaine might be getting sent home to die.

"You mean there's a chance that they won't be able to do anything?" he asked, his voice sounding only slightly more vulnerable this time.

"The cancer is growing too fast," Blaine explained, picking at the cast on his wrist. "It's already progressed to stage four, they are just waiting to see if it's spread to my spinal cord or not."

"Oh, my God," he whispered, throwing his head back to stare at the ceiling and Blaine could tell that he was holding back tears.

"I'm so sorry," Blaine said desperately, hating himself for doing this to Kurt

All Kurt could do was shake his head frantically, like he wasn't willing to hear it—like he couldn't hear it without breaking down completely.

"I just keep hurting you and I don't know how to stop," he said, feeling his own voice break at how helpless Kurt looked with his arms crossed tightly across his body, like he was trying to hold his insides in.

"Getting cancer wasn't your fault."

"I know that," he said. He hadn't been talking about the cancer, he was talking about Eli and he was pretty sure that Kurt knew that but was trying to avoid the topic. Well, tough, they needed to talk about it—Blaine needed to talk about it. To be allowed to say his apology and be heard.

"I just feel like I keep breaking things. I'm so incredibly sorry about cheating on you, Kurt. You have no idea how sorry I am, and now I'm sick and I just... I never wanted to hurt you."

"I don't want to fight with you anymore, not now," Kurt said, cutting him off. He looked at Blaine like it pained him.

"I never wanted to hurt you," he repeated, his lips quivering with emotion, praying that this time Kurt would hear him.

"How did you think I would feel when I found out?" Kurt asked, looking betrayed and it sent a stabbing pain to his heart that had nothing to do with the cancer.

"I honestly don't know what happened—it just..."

"It just happened?" Kurt said, mockingly. "You tripped and his dick fell in your mouth?"

"It wasn't like that. I'm sorry. There's no excuse," he said, starting to cry. He hated how bitter Kurt sounded and how he couldn't even get angry about it because it was entirely his fault.

"There isn't an excuse, you're right," Kurt said, glaring at him. "But now you're sick and I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

His breath caught in his throat, wondering if Kurt was just trying to hurt him with the words or if he honestly was only here because Blaine was sick and he felt obligated. Maybe their friends were pressuring him into staying with Blaine. Was that what he and Sam were fighting over? Oh, God...

"I don't want you to be with me out of pity—if you don't love me—"

"Of course I love you," Kurt said, like it was the worst possible thing in the world. "That's what makes this hurt so bad. I love you and can't stand the thought of not being with you, but you cheated on me. You took every precious moment we've ever shared and put it into question because I can't trust you. And now I don't even have the time to come to terms with what happened and learn to forgive you because you're—you've—you might not be around to—" Kurt finally broke down and started crying.

"I have cancer," he said bluntly, filling in what Kurt couldn't. "There's no point in denying it."

"It's just not fair. We're so young—you're so young," Kurt said.

"It's okay," Blaine started to try and calm him down but Kurt just started getting more worked up until he was sobbing as well.

Blaine had been trying his best to be strong ever since the diagnosis, but he couldn't do it anymore. Not looking at Kurt. He couldn't look into the eyes of his future and know that he should have so much more. That he was supposed to have an entire life where he grew old with the man of his dreams and now he might not even have a future beyond this hospital bed. It wasn't fair.

Kurt pushed off of the door frame that he'd been leaning on like a life support. He moved to climb into bed with Blaine, getting tangled up in the IV for a few minutes before they managed to settle into a comfortable position where Kurt could hold him tightly as they both cried together. He wasn't sure if this meant that Kurt had forgiven him or not, but at the moment he couldn't care. He just wanted to be held. It had been too long since Kurt's arms had been around him.

"It's okay," Kurt whispered into his ears. "It'll be okay. We'll figure it out together."

Together.

Those words felt like magic to him and while it didn't remove any of the fear for the future; it helped him not feel quite as hysterical about his present. There was a lot coming up for him. Most importantly, finding out if the doctors even believed he had a chance at surviving this, but if Kurt was willing to hold his hand through it all in spite of the pain Blaine had cause, maybe he could get through this without losing his mind.


	4. Chapter 3

When Blaine woke up he couldn't even remember falling asleep, but he assumed that he must have after crying into Kurt's shoulder. Sleeping in an awkward position would explain why his body ached so much, but it didn't explain the team of doctors and nurses surrounding his bed. It didn't explain why his family were huddled together near the doorway or why Kurt had pressed himself against the wall and was looking at him like he'd seen a ghost.

"Can you tell me your name?" Dr. Green asked once she realized his eyes were open.

She moved to shine a light into his eyes and he blinked against the brightness. He was starting to grow really tired of them constantly doing that. He groaned and pushed her away. He felt awful and just wanted to sleep some more.

"I know you're tired, but I just need to ask you three quick questions and then I'll let you rest," she said. "Can you tell me your name?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he put his hands up to his ears to try and drown out the sound. He just wanted to be left alone. What were they even doing in his room to begin with? Dr. Briar told him that the results for his spinal tap weren't going to be ready until tonight at the very earliest.

"Hey," Kurt said moving over towards him. He began to rub Blaine's back comfortingly. "Can you just say your name for me?"

"Kurt," he whined, wondering why everybody was bothering him so much about this. Couldn't they just look at his chart? Why had everyone suddenly forgotten his name?

"You had a seizure," Kurt said.

Seizure. Right. Because he had cancer.

"The doctors just want to make sure you're alright then you can sleep all you want, I promise," Kurt said.

"It hurts," he groaned as he tried to shift around to his back from where he'd been laying on his side.

"I know it does," Kurt said, moving to stroke his cheek. "Just say your name, Honey."

"Blaine," he whined, just wanting it all to stop. He just wanted to be left alone in his misery.

"Do you know where you are?" Dr. Green asked.

"Hospital," he answered shortly.

"Do you know what day it is?" she asked.

"Eh—I don't know," he groaned, frustrated by all the questions. He was too tired to think straight.

"What does that mean?" he heard Kurt ask the doctor, his voice frantic. He could hear his mother start to cry again. "Is he okay?"

"He's just a little out of it, not abnormal," Dr. Green answered.

"Blaine, I need you to try and tell me what day it is. Do you remember?" she asked again, completely unhelpfully. Hadn't he already said he didn't know?

"I don't know," he groaned. "I came Friday and then I was asleep for awhile and haven't kept track... Monday?" He was already starting to drift off to sleep again.

"Tuesday, but close enough," Dr. Green said. "You can sleep now."

Blaine was eager to let sleep take over his foggy mind, but he couldn't help but overhear the doctors talking to Kurt and his family. He was fine for now, but they should prepare themselves. It was likely, given his condition — given his cancer, he didn't know why they kept calling it a condition — it was likely that he would continue to have seizures. They were increasing his medication to try and prevent another one from happening but there was only so much they were able to do.

Just before he drifted off entirely, he felt a light kiss to his forehead as Kurt whispered into his ear, "You can't do that to me again, okay? I was so scared."

God, Blaine would have done about anything to be able to promise that he wouldn't have a seizure again. But just like he couldn't wish the cancer away, he couldn't shield his loved ones from the inevitable side effects either. He just hoped they were all strong enough to deal with this because Blaine didn't know if he would be able to do it alone.

Kurt was sitting beside him on the bed, complaining about how Blaine had let his moisturizing routine fall by the wayside as he tried to give Blaine's good hand a manicure with the limited supplies he had in his bag. Cooper was in the chair beside the bed, reading them sides for an unaired episode of CSI, whining about how he'd been up for the part of some deranged serial killer when the network decided to bring in a big-name guest star instead. Blaine was kindly telling his brother that it was alright, that maybe if he was lucky he'd get to play a murder victim on the show when Sam came knocking on the door.

"Blond Chameleon," Blaine addressed him seriously upon seeing his friend decked out in his superhero costume. "Are you here on official business?"

"I'm afraid so," he replied. Whatever it was sounded dire. "There's been an incident. Nightbird is needed downstairs immediately."

"Blaine can't exactly walk out of here to play superhero with you," Kurt said snarkily, pointing down to the cast on his right leg.

"Then why don't you go get him a wheelchair," Sam shot back with equal venom. "His friends just want to see him. You know, friends? Those people that have actually been here the last few months."

Blaine felt Kurt stiffen beside him at the insult and he knew Kurt was digging in for a fight. He didn't want to have to listen to the two of them arguing and blaming each other for whatever it was they were fighting over. He didn't know if Sam thought that Kurt moving to New York had somehow caused Blaine to get sick or what their problems were. Whatever it was, the day had already been exhausting. He'd never quite recovered after his seizure that morning. The last thing he wanted was to listen to their drama.

"Guys, stop," Cooper spoke up with a tired voice, like he'd been playing referee the entire weekend. From what Emily had said, Blaine was sure he had been.

"Been here? Like how you've been here and failed to notice he had cancer this whole time?" Kurt challenged, ignoring Cooper and causing his brother to roll his eyes and return to his cell phone game as if he knew his efforts would be pointless. If Cooper wasn't going to do something, Blaine was going to have to.

"Can you go check with Emily and ask if it's okay that I go downstairs for a few minutes?" Blaine asked with a pacifying hand on Kurt's arm.

Kurt looked like leaving was the very last thing that he wanted to do, but he didn't argue, which Blaine was grateful for.

"Fine," Kurt grumbled and stormed out of the room, causing Sam to roll his eyes. Blaine wondered how much he'd be paying later for siding with Sam.

"Jesus," Sam whistled.

"You could try a little harder to be nice," Blaine glared. "You know how hard it is for him to be in hospitals."

"Whatever, he's not the one I'm worried about," Sam said. "So, Finn told us the news. Cancer, dude?"

"Yeah. Looks like Nightbird won't be reporting for duty anytime soon," he said, looking down, a bit embarrassed. He hated pity and now that Finn had told everyone about him, he knew he'd be getting it in spades. He could only guess that Kurt had told his family at some point that morning after Blaine had fallen asleep.

"So, everyone's here?" Blaine asked.

"You know how it is. We've been worried since Friday and when Finn told us about the cancer," Sam trailed off with a shrug.

He didn't really need to finish the sentence for Blaine to know what he was going to say. Everyone was worried about him, of course they were. They were his friends. It had taken Blaine a while to really realize it, but they cared about him apart from what he could do for the glee club or the fact that he had dated Kurt. They were likely planning some fundraiser to help raise money for cancer or something equally as campy to help them feel a little less helpless.

He wished it was that easy for himself.

"So, everyone's downstairs," he said, a statement not a question. He knew how their dysfunctional family worked. Of course they were all here.

"Your nurse made us go into a conference room. She thinks we'll upset the other patients or something," Sam said with an amused smirk, casually leaning against the door with his arms crossed like they were discussing the merits of the Justice League versus the Avengers and not the fact that all of his friends were worried because he was in the hospital with cancer.

"She's probably right," he said, trying his best to smile and appear as carefree as Sam, but it was hard when he was tired and ached all the way down to his bones.

"Probably," Sam laughed.

"Dramatic displays of affection are cause for celebration not distress," Cooper added. "You should remember that Blainers, it'll serve you well when you graduate and start auditioning for parts."

Blaine didn't have the heart to remind him that he might not have the chance to go on auditions, let alone graduate. The entire subject of his future had been taboo for his family ever since he'd been diagnosed. The idea of putting a time limit on his life was terrifying.

Nobody said anything, which made Blaine think that he wasn't the only one thinking about his possible early demise. Was this how things were going to be from now on? Were they going to be forced to tiptoe around his cancer because nobody could handle the possibility that he might not live past eighteen? That didn't seem like a life to him any more than being stuck in a hospital bed did. He didn't want to talk about death all of the time, but he didn't want to live in denial either.

It was to a quiet room that Kurt returned, wheeling a chair with him for Blaine.

"So, Emily said I could go?" Blaine asked, carefully sitting up so that he could maneuver his way into the chair. His movements were awkward with only one working wrist and a cast on his leg that went all the way up to his thigh.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," Kurt grumbled, but it didn't stop him from helping Blaine into the chair.

"Well, it's a good thing you're not in charge of his medical care then, isn't it?" Sam said.

"Sam, please," Blaine groaned.

It was bad enough that he had to be stuck in the hospital, the last thing he needed was for two of his best friends to be incapable of being in the same room together when Blaine wasn't even sure if he'd ever be allowed to leave the hospital again. These four walls might be all he had to look forward to depending on the results of his spinal tap.

"Singing to him isn't going to cure him," Kurt said as he began to wheel Blaine out into the hallways, Sam and Cooper following behind.

"There have been studies done on the effects of music as therapy and it's been shown that music can actually helps reduce pain, anxiety and nausea in cancer patients as well as reduces high blood pressure, rapid heartbeat, depression and sleeplessness. But you're right. It won't cure him, so we shouldn't ever let him listen to music again," Sam said, causing all three of them to turn around and look at him in shock.

"Yeah, not just a dumb blond," Sam added, sarcastically.

Kurt didn't refute the fact but he didn't look like he agreed either.

"Can you two just try to remember that I care about both of you and that arguing with each other is only going to upset me?" he asked putting his forehead into his palms in frustration. The stress of them fighting each other was starting to weigh on him and it had only been ten minutes. He knew they'd been going at each other for days.

"I'm sorry," they both said, having the decency to at least look ashamed.

"Thank you," he sighed as they passed the nurse's station to triple check that it was alright that he went downstairs for a few minutes.

Kurt didn't seem to believe that Blaine would be alright and was growing more anxious until Emily offered to go downstairs with them in case anything happened. Blaine didn't like the idea of monopolizing her time like that when she had other things to do, but Kurt looked so relieved at her offer that he didn't fight it.

As tired as Blaine was, he couldn't help but give a genuine smile when they made it to a large conference room and he saw all of his friends — most of them for the first time since his fall on Friday.

"Blaine!" they all shouted and hurried over to him, engulfing him in a big group hug before they all pulled away to greet him individually.

"I don't see the hole," Brittany said, inspecting his hair closely. "Is it under this Band-Aid? Did you cover it with gel? Does it hurt?"

"I think what she means to say is, 'you look good'," Tina said with a false smile. Blaine could see that her eyes were red.

"Are you okay?" he asked. He wasn't stupid, he knew that they were all there because he had cancer and that would have upset them all, but he hated the idea of any of them crying over him.

"Yeah, she's been like this most of the day," Artie chuckled once he noticed Blaine looking at her in concern.

"You weren't supposed to tell him," Tina grumbled, unable to even pretend like she hadn't been crying.

"I'm okay," Blaine said, knowing that it was a lie that nobody would believe, but everyone seemed happy enough to hear him say it anyway.

"We felt bad that you were missing Finn's first weekly assignment," Sugar said, waving her hands around as if to explain that was their reason for showing up at the hospital when they would usually have been rehearsing in the choir room right about now.

"I think you mean weekly disaster," Tina snickered causing Artie and Sam to chuckle.

"What's the theme?" he asked, suddenly realizing that everyone was decked out in their superhero costumes, even the sophomores.

The fact that he hadn't realized before — the fact that seeing everyone decked out in costume was so regular for him — made him a bit proud of the life he'd created for himself at McKinley in Kurt's absence. As bad as things were for him, he still had a great group of friends that weren't afraid to look a bit ridiculous in the name of having some fun their senior year.

The question was 'why were they wearing their costumes here'? Had Finn gone with a 'superhero' week? Maybe everyone was singing theme songs this week, that would certainly be a challenge. They'd probably have to do a cappella in order to actually have something to sing if that was the case. He could already see a Captain Planet number from Brittany. Sam would nab Spiderman off the bat but that was okay with Blaine. It was an obvious choice and he liked picking things that were just slightly off kilter, not enough to alienate anybody, but enough to set himself apart.

He could already picture the number he would perform. He imagined doing the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles number a cappella. He would be able to convince Sam to sing with him easily as long as he let him be Raphael—it was fine. Donatello was the brains of the operation anyway.

"Dynamic duets," Marley answered, bringing him out of his daydream of choreography and green spandex.

"That's not so bad," he said. With Finn, it could definitely have been worse. Sure it lacked originality, being a recycled version of the duets competition Schue had every year, but at least it wasn't eighties hair bands.

"You didn't hear his original idea," Artie added, unamused.

"Foreigner," Tina said, as if that should explain it all.

"The band or immigrants?" he asked, confused how either was an appropriate theme this close to sectionals.

"I can hear you all," Finn chimed in, but everyone ignored him.

"Please look at his outfit," Sam said, pointing over at Finn as if he hadn't said anything.

Finn was wearing some D-list superhero costume that looked like it was designed by a five year old.

"It's like a minion from Despicable Me if the minions mated with the Jolly Green Giant and met a blind seamstress," Kitty said.

"I got the superhero idea from you," Finn said, ignoring all the insults. "We're all awesome on our own but just like the Avengers, when you get them all together and they stop fighting with each other — together they save New York. Well, I figured if we could make ourselves more than just men, if we could devote ourselves to an ideal, then they can't stop us. We'd become something else. Legends—"

"Are you quoting Batman?" Blaine asked with a tilt of his head, biting his tongue against the judgmental comment that was threatening to come out. The sheer amount of patience he'd learned from working with New Directions alone was astounding.

"He's quoting it incorrectly and out of context, but yes," Sam said, offended. "Finn might have marathoned comic book movies with me until four am last night."

"Well, Batman Begins is a nice start," Blaine commented.

"I wanted to work on my Ra's Al Ghul impression."

"And?" he asked. He was always genuinely amused by Sam's impressions.

"Still not as good as my Bane," Sam said before switching his voice up. "When Gotham is ashes, then you have my permission to die."

Blaine nodded his approval, despite the fact that he'd been listening to Sam perfect that one since all of New Directions had gone to see the movie over the summer as a last hurrah before all the graduated seniors left town.

"We prepared a song, so are you going to listen to it or keep drooling over Sam's lame impressions?" Kitty asked, bored but Blaine had long since suspected underneath her cutting exterior, she had a good heart. Not unlike Santana in that way, he thought.

"I've never actually had anybody serenade me before. I mean, apart from that one time Kurt sang for Whitney week," Blaine said, blushing at the thought of the entire club singing to him.

"You always sing when we're feeling bad, we figured it's time we returned the favor," Sugar said, playfully ruffling his hair, mindful not to disturb the dressings. "Though they won't let me solo on it so I'm sure it will sound horrible."

"Obviously," he agreed, humoring her much in the same way he did Cooper. Sugar never had been able to sing and she said more insulting things in a minute than anybody he knew, but she had a really good heart and had grown to become an amazing friend.

Everyone took several steps away from him and moved into position. Even without a stage or the steps of the choir room, they'd still worked out a routine just for him and that warmed his heart.

Tina, Brittany and Marley began singing an a cappella, slowed down version of 'Some Nights' by Fun.

He wondered if the song choice was a coincidence, but he didn't miss Sam's wink at him once he knew Blaine recognized the song. They'd talked before about their favorite performances and Blaine had mentioned how singing 'We Are Young' after Sectionals last year was one of the first times he'd felt like he belonged at McKinley.

That was before his closest friends had graduated and abandoned him. It was before he cheated on Kurt and drove many of their friends to choose sides— mostly Kurt's. But this? This felt like something new. Something a lot like family. It felt like something that was his. It was a group of friends that weren't too embarrassed to dress up in spandex and capes because it made him happy. It felt like people that saw him at his worst and still loved him anyway as his own person. It was love, acceptance, a shoulder to cry on and people to laugh with when things got too heavy.

As the chorus hit, the jazz band walked into the room and began to play, speeding the tempo up until it was the same speed as the original and all the rest of New Directions began singing together as the song really set off. The sound filled the room easily and caused goosebumps to form like it often did when he was able to take a step back and really hear how talented his friends were.

"You brought the band?" he asked, surprised.

"They wanted to come. They really like you, you know? You've got more friends than you realize," Finn said, smiling at him in what Blaine could only assume was an apology.

Finn hadn't been there for him and he could tell that he felt guilty for it. He didn't have to. Finn was Kurt's brother, no matter how close they might have gotten over the last year, it was always clear that Kurt would get Finn in the split.

Blaine sat back and told himself to enjoy the performance, despite the fact that he felt the need to bury his face in his hands. Everyone was staring right at him as they sang; it was so strange to have so much attention on him at once without being on stage. He had performed for hundreds before without any shame, but he was always on stage and there was some separation from his audience. When he serenaded people, it was to make them feel good. The one time in his life he'd been serenaded before was more of a 'can we just stop fighting now, please' than anything else.

This was different and it felt good. Embarrassingly good. He could feel his smile growing as his face grew a brighter shade of red. When he'd agreed to transfer to McKinley, he'd dreamed of making the kind of friends that Kurt had. He'd thought that he'd spend some time with his boyfriend and make some new friends along the way. He'd hoped he'd find himself a bit before he went off to college in New York, that he'd learn to be a bit braver. He'd never imagined he'd find people like Sam, Tina, Brittany or Sugar.

Two years ago he wasn't even sure he would have wanted to, but now that he had them, he couldn't imagine it any other way. As everyone moved into the final verse of the song, Blaine tried to soak it all in. It felt a bit like he was coming up for air after almost drowning. It was easy to lose sight of everything he had going for himself when he was bound to a hospital bed, but he had a life outside of this cancer. He had McKinley, glee club and most importantly, some amazing friends.

Maybe his mom wasn't completely full of crap. He'd just been thinking about this the wrong way. The doctor said cancer and he started planning a funeral, but people beat cancer. It happened all the time. Sure, his tumor was aggressive, but that just meant he'd have to fight it that much harder.

He had to fight it. He had such a bright future ahead of him and he couldn't let his friends and family bury him—not this young. Dr. Briar would schedule him a surgery to remove his tumor and he'd get chemotherapy to get rid of whatever cancer was left. He could be cancer free by the time college started up. He could be okay.

With all of New Directions to back him up, how could he not be?

As Unique and Marley hit the final notes in the song, he found himself blinking against the tears that had formed in his eyes. He couldn't have been downstairs longer than ten minutes, but in that short time he realized that he was without pain for the first time since waking up in the emergency room. Being with the people he cared about, having them joke around with him and treat him like he hadn't changed had made him forget about the pain for a little bit.

"I'd get up and give you all a hug but I can't," he said, gesturing down to his leg. "But that was amazing. Seriously. We might have our number for sectionals."

"So long as you'll be singing up there with us," Tina said.

"Yeah, you can't miss sectionals; it'd be like if Lord Tubbington missed an episode of Fringe. Disaster," Brittany said.

"You know, I don't know if I'll be out of the hospital and I won't be able to dance—" he trailed off.

"Are you trying to say us wheelchair folk can't get down with the best of them?" Artie asked with a sassy wave of the hand.

"No, of course you can," Blaine said, fumbling a bit under all the attention. "I'll see who I have to bribe to get out of here in time for sectionals."

He was the "New Rachel" after all, what kind of a leader would he be if he missed sectionals? He was still dragging a bit, his energy levels hadn't recovered yet, but he had a week and if he really pushed himself, he was sure he could be out of the hospital by then. If not, he was old enough to sign himself out, right?

After all, hadn't Sam said music was therapeutic? He was already feeling the positive effects it had had on him and that was just one song. He was sure actually singing would only help his healing.

He was feeling great for the first time in awhile.

Then Blaine made the mistake of looking over to where Kurt and Cooper had been standing with Emily and the house of cards he'd built out of hope and optimism came crashing down. Dr. Briar was standing there with his parents, forced smiles on their face, waving him on cheerfully like they were happy to wait for him to be done. They had all the time in the world.

He only had so much.

Being stubborn, Blaine had refused to leave the happy, carefree circle of his friends for awhile, so it was a good hour and a half before he was finally back in bed, settling in for the bad news. Everyone had already gone home for the night with promises to call him later. Kurt had left, too, regretfully. Blaine had invited him to stay, but Kurt promised him that he would be back in the morning. This was a family matter and his parents were going to want some time with him. Kurt didn't want to monopolize all of it.

"The good news is that Blaine's spinal tap was clean. The cancer hasn't spread," Dr. Briar said, his voice full of enthusiasm but his face hadn't received the message.

Blaine did his best to steel himself for whatever was about to come. He knew that it was going to be bad and that was going to upset his family. He wanted to be strong for them; he figured it was the least he could do. He needed to hold himself together until he was alone. The last thing his hysterical mother needed was a hysterical son.

"Well, that's great news, right?" his mother said with a big smile. "If it hasn't spread, that makes it easier to treat."

He could tell by the look on Dr. Briar's face that wasn't the case.

"I've reviewed the scans and there's just no way that we will be able to operate," Dr. Briar said.

Blaine's breath caught in his throat. He'd been preparing for bad news, but he hadn't expected that. If they couldn't do the surgery did that mean they were just throwing in the towel? That was it for him? Weren't they going to at least try?

A heavy weight settled on top of his chest. The weight of dying. He had entertained the idea before, but he never really believed the tumor would kill him. He was just being overdramatic—his mother had always accused him of being a drama queen. What had only been a possibility before was going to be reality. An entire future, carefully planned and prepared for was going to be wiped out by a few irregular cells multiplying too quickly in his head.

"What does that mean? Why can't you just take it out?" Cooper asked, his voice smaller than normal, this news was affecting them all.

"Even if he managed to survive the surgery, which would be a very high risk procedure, the chances of him coming out with anything but severe brain damage is less than 10%."

Ten percent.

The chance of him surviving brain surgery was ten percent. There was a ninety percent chance that he would either die on the table or that he would end up brain dead. He didn't even want to hear his odds if he didn't have the surgery.

"So, what are you saying?" his dad asked. He sounded calm, but Blaine could see his hands shaking. He was leaning against the wall like it was the only thing keeping him standing.

"I'm saying that we can talk about treatments to prolong life, but we aren't looking at curative treatments," Dr. Briar said.

"So, you're just going to send him home to die? Is that what you're telling me?" his dad argued, his voice growing louder.

Blaine was going to die.

He licked his lips and they were salty. He couldn't remember when he'd even started crying, but now that he had, he didn't know if he'd be able to stop. Cooper reached out and grabbed onto his hand tight, crushing his fingers in the process but Blaine was numb to the pain. The only thing he could feel was encroaching death. He knew it was impossible, but he could somehow feel the tumor in his head now, wrapping its fingers around important memories and motor skills and suffocating them. Yanking them away from Blaine's reach, never to be seen again.

Dr. Briar moved around the bed until he was putting a mask over Blaine's mouth to help him breathe. It didn't help, his vision was blurred and all he could see were the faces of his family at his inevitable funeral.

This was all going to be gone soon.

He'd been so stupid. He had been sick for months and hadn't bothered to go to the doctor. He'd been going about his day like somehow math tests and student council meetings were more important than his health. This was his fault and the worst part was—he wasn't just bringing this cancer on himself. His death would be hard, but not for him. He would be gone. It was the people he was going to leave behind that he was worried about.

"No," his mom said, shaking her head frantically. Blaine felt inclined to join her. This couldn't be happening to him. This was something that happened to kids on soap operas or in novels. He was too young to be terminal. "NO! That's not happening. He can come through this."

"I understand that this is a lot to take in right now—"

"You don't know my son," his mom cut Dr. Briar off. "He's strong. He can beat this; you've got to at least try!"

"Radiation and chemotherapy can give Blaine more time and improve his quality of life," Dr. Briar said, and Blaine was getting the sickening feeling of knowing that no matter how much his mother argued this, there wasn't anything that could change his odds. There wasn't any chance he would survive this. He needed to start thinking about how he wanted to spend his remaining time.

"No," his mom repeated. "You don't know what you're talking about. Four years ago, you made me hold my son's hand and tell him goodbye. You said there was very little chance he'd ever wake up, and you know what? He did. He's been a happy and healthy boy since then."

"Until now," Cooper mumbled.

Confused and knowing that he'd missed something, he struggled to remove the breathing mask to talk, l feeling light headed once he did. "What are you talking about?" he panted.

"When you got attacked after the dance, they told mom and dad that you were going to die and then you woke up," Cooper filled in the blanks for him. His parents had never told him that part of the story before.

He knew that he was in bad shape when he'd first been admitted, but nobody had told him that he was supposed to die that night. Was this his punishment for living? Death had wanted to take him then so he was coming back now? How did that seem fair? If anything, he would have rather died that night. He didn't have any friends and was severely bullied every day of that year; he didn't have much to lose. Now he had a long list of friends, a boy that he was helplessly in love with and was closer to his family then he'd been before. He had everything to lose.

"You were our little miracle baby, you always have been," his mom said. "Don't listen to him, Sweetheart. We'll find you a doctor that can operate and we'll get rid of this. You won't have to fight this alone."

There it was, the first cancer cliché out in the open.

Saying that he wasn't fighting this alone was bullshit. He was the only one in the room with cancer—the only one with a death sentence. They might hold his hand along the way, but if they found a doctor willing to operate, Blaine would go into an impossible brain surgery alone. He would be the one getting shot up with radiation. He was going to be doing this alone and he wasn't sure if he had the energy for that. Not if the treatments weren't going to work.

What was the point in treatment if he was going to die anyway?

There was just so much more that he wanted to do. He'd put off so many things with the promise of 'when I'm in college,' 'when I'm older,' 'I'll do it when I move to New York'. It sounded so empty now in the face of death. Promises of one day were empty; he should have done more when he'd had the chance.

He was determined to do more now with whatever time they could give him, but he couldn't do anything if he was stuck inside of the hospital on an endless loop of radiation and chemo.

"How much time?" he asked, not even sure he wanted to know the answer. It could be so romantic to fly off to France and live out the rest of his life from a beach in the French Riviera. Kurt would love to see Paris. If he could make it until March, they could be there for Fashion Week.

"It's impossible to say," Dr. Briar said. "Everybody is different."

"Are we talking a few years?" he pressed, needing to know what kind of timeframe he was looking at.

With enough time, he could take his mother home and meet his grandparents for the first time—learn about his heritage while spending his last days with his family in Puerto Princesa. He could move to LA with Cooper for a few months, spend some time really bonding as brothers.

Maybe he could take Sam to ComicCon in San Diego.

"Blaine, you're not going to die," his mom said, determined.

"This isn't something you can will into fruition," he said. "How much time do I have?"

"Looking at other patients who've had similar tumors? I would guess a few months, maybe a year if we can find the right treatment plan," Dr. Briar said.

The entire room fell into an eerie silence as they all took in what the doctor had said.

He would be lucky to live a year.

College was out of the question. He could toss out the audition numbers he'd been planning for NYU and NYADA. There was no way he'd ever have the energy to trek through Nepal or walk the length of the Great Wall, but he could do without those things. A few more numbers with New Directions would suffice. Seeing his graduation seemed like a reasonable goal.

He could still travel to Europe if he booked a ticket soon.

"I want to go home," he said, his voice strong, unwavering.

"Blaine—"

"We'll fight this—"

"Maybe you should sleep on this—"

His family all tried to argue with him but Blaine drowned it out and stared at the doctor, determined.

"I want to go home," he repeated himself, barely even blinking.

"I understand," Dr. Briar said. "We won't be able to release you for another three days; we need to monitor your progress after the surgery. We'll talk about discharging you in a few days. I'll send an oncologist up who can come up with a treatment plan that works for you and you're going to have to talk to the orthopedic surgeon as well about your wrist and leg."

"I don't want to be here anymore," Blaine said, trying his damndest to keep the cracks in his voice from showing. He felt like a porcelain doll that had been smashed and glued back together, the tiniest touch would have him crumbling to pieces again.

He wanted his own bed. He wanted his blanket and pictures. He wanted to be in his room where he could lock the door, turn the music up as loud as it would go and ignore his mother's complaints about the neighbors. He couldn't be in these four walls anymore. He needed some time to think about what he was going to do with the time he had left—to come to terms with the idea that he even had a limitation of time left.

He couldn't do that here.

"If you checked yourself out, it would be against medical advice. You're still receiving medication through your IV and haven't returned to eating solid foods yet. Your brain needs to be monitored for potential swelling," Dr. Briar explained.

"He's not checking himself out," his dad said, firmly.

"If you're uncomfortable here, we can transfer hospitals? I'd feel better if we went somewhere else," his mother said.

"I don't want another hospital," he snapped. "I just want to be left alone."

"I'll just leave you all to discuss this in private," Dr. Briar excused himself.

"Sweetheart, alone is the last thing you should be right now," his mother said, moving to sit on the bed so that she could rub his back.

He felt like he'd become the Hulk with how rage had suddenly filled him in a matter of seconds. It felt out of control and looking back, he wasn't entirely sure why he started yelling, but everybody blamed the tumor for it.

"JUST GO AWAY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE! I DON'T WANT YOU HERE! I JUST WANT SOME GODDAMN FUCKING PRIVACY!" he screamed, causing everyone to jump back and away from him.

The anger left him as soon as he stopped yelling, gone as suddenly as it had come. What was left was guilt. He'd never screamed like that before and he rarely ever swore, least not in front of his parents. They were dealing with their own grief; it wasn't fair for him to push them away.

"I'm sorry," he said, feeling the weight of it all crushing him. He curled up onto his side as much as he could with his cast and hugged his pillow to his chest, trying not to cry.

"You don't have to apologize, this is hard for all of us," his dad reassured him.

"I just can't be here anymore. The second they say I'm allowed to leave, I want to go. No chemo. No radiation, I don't want to be put through hell. I don't want to be sick. I just want to be home."

Nobody argued with him, though it was hardly because they were throwing in the towel. Arguments and second opinions would come later. Tonight was about comfort and understanding. They respected him enough not to push him right now. It had been a long day and he was allowed some time to come to terms with what the doctors had told him before his family started pressuring him to fight.

They would all need some time to come to terms with it.


	5. Chapter 4

Blaine sat in his parent's old bedroom, surrounded by half unpacked boxes and feeling completely overwhelmed. It was the first time he'd been home in over a week and he just wanted to be back in his old bedroom, not quarantined to the first floor of the house while his parents made due with his smaller bedroom upstairs. The move from his room upstairs to the master room on the first floor had happened at some point while Blaine had been in the hospital. A fall down the stairs had started this whole mess and nobody wanted to risk it happening a second time. As it was, he was barely able to use the crutches until his wrist brace was removed in a week. The stairs were just too complicated for him to master and, as much as he hated to admit it to himself, they were right to ban him from the second floor.

Though nobody wanted to say it out loud, everyone knew that a time was coming where Blaine wouldn't be able to leave his bed most days. He would rather the move happen now while he had some time to get used to it.

Still, it felt weird and claustrophobic, despite the bigger room. Maybe it was the pamphlets on the bedside table that he was supposed to be looking over. It was probably the post-it note with online support groups and 24-hour hotlines. In the kitchen, his parents couldn't stop talking about treatment plans and second opinions and his iPod player hadn't been brought down yet so he couldn't drown out their voices with music.

His laptop was still open to the Travelocity page where his father had just bought them all tickets to Chicago so they could meet with another doctor. It just felt so pointless — three-hundred and fifty dollars a person round trip so that another doctor could tell him that there wasn't anything to be done.

That money could have paid for a week of hotel rooms in the French Riviera.

Everything was too loud, too big and too much to take. Nobody had even asked him what he'd wanted since his outburst at the hospital where he'd demanded to be taken home. If they had, they'd know that the thought of chemotherapy terrified him. He didn't want to be pumped full of chemicals and he sure as hell didn't want to deal with radiotherapy. He still wasn't even sure what all the letters and acronyms surrounding his treatments even stood for, much less what it entailed. He was sick enough as it was without it. He didn't want his hair to fall out or to be throwing up more than he absolutely had to.

The more he tried to tell them that he wasn't interested in treatment, the further they went into denial about his condition. They were ignoring him. Not that it was anything new for him, but this wasn't some stupid argument over dinner reservations or piano lessons. This was his life. His very limited-time-left life.

To Kurt:

Rescue me

He typed that out, not being over dramatic in the least. He was climbing the walls in this house and he needed some fresh air — some space to think about what was happening to him without his mother trying to tell him how to feel about it. Kurt was just a quick excuse to run away for a little while. He'd always been good at that.

To Blaine:

That bad? :(

Kurt had no idea. Burt and Carole were different, they didn't smother Kurt. Burt always gave Kurt space to make his own decisions. His mother didn't understand why he was having such a problem with her hovering. It was like she'd forgotten that she hadn't been around often for the past few months of his life due to her book tour. She'd been in and out of the house so often promoting her newest self-help book that he barely saw her more than a few minutes each day. He'd learned how to take care of himself. He didn't need her standing over him all of the time. He didn't want it.

To Kurt:

My mother might kill me before this tumor has a chance.

To Blaine:

Not funny. Don't joke.

I've got at least five episodes of Treme to catch up and it's not as fun to hate-watch alone. I'll be there soon.

I'll be there soon. It was like an answered prayer. He knew it was wrong to be texting Kurt. Even though he had promised to be there for Blaine, he deserved some distance, especially now. Kurt's life had always been surrounded in death and it wasn't fair for Blaine to bring more into it. He knew he had no right to expect Kurt to rush in and rescue him, but he sighed in relief anyway.

He threw his phone down on the mattress and took a steadying breath, calmed momentarily by the knowledge that Kurt would be there to take him away from this claustrophobic house. When he'd been stuck in the hospital, all he'd asked for was the chance to go home. Now he couldn't get far enough away.

With some difficulty, he managed to stand up, leaning heavily on one crutch as he hobbled around the room in search of where his school bag had been thrown. It was nearly impossible to make it to the desk and once he did, he nearly fell, but he remained upright through sheer determination.

He was grateful to find his bag on the chair and adjusted himself so that he was leaning almost all of his weight on the desk while he unbuckled the bag with one hand. He began tossing his books and notebooks out haphazardly, making room for some essentials. If he was going to be having a TV marathon at the Hummel's, he'd need a few things. The good popcorn from the kitchen was a must since Kurt's house was the only house in America that didn't keep microwave popcorn on hand in the pantry. He'd need an extra sweatshirt since Burt didn't believe in turning up the heat since Hummel men are cold-blooded. There was Kurt's copy of Sleepless in Seattle that needed to be returned from months ago. A few books he'd wanted to recommend for Kurt to read also made their way inside until his bag was overflowing with stuff.

The floorboard creaked, signaling somebody's arrival and he turned to see his mom making her way into the room.

"You really shouldn't be moving around without our help," she chastised him, taking his bag off of the chair and pushing him into it. She placed the bag on the desk so that he could continue on with what he was doing, satisfied that he couldn't hurt himself so long as he was sitting down. He hated to admit it, but he felt more secure in the chair as well.

"Don't forget to take your second pill," she said, casually moving around the room to put away the clean clothes she's been holding. He'd insisted that he could do his own laundry, but she refused to let him.

"Okay," he said, barely looking up at her. He didn't want to give her an opening to start in again with her pleading that he come to church with her in the morning. It wasn't going to happen. If he hadn't been to church since he'd come out of the closet, he sure as hell wasn't going to go now that God had given him an inoperable tumor.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he packed up his bag. She put the laundry basket that she'd been holding down on the end of his bed and crossed her arms; she already knew what his answer was going to be.

"I'm going to Kurt's," he said, trying to shuffle out of his seat but his crutch had fallen beyond his reach and moving around was hard enough without the added complication of carpet to trip over.

"You can't go, you've just had a craniotomy," she said with a deep sigh, but that didn't stop her from moving to pick up the crutch for him. She kept close to make sure he was stable before backing off at his annoyed glare. He might have been broken and have cancer, but he was still eighteen years old and he could be trusted to stand on his own.

"I won't be driving," he explained carefully. "What difference does it make if I'm on bed rest here or there?"

He couldn't stand this house for another minute. The dark paint that his mother had favored just seemed horribly depressing to him. He wanted to be back in Kurt's room with the pale walls and incredibly soft mattress. Kurt's room had always been an oasis for him. One of the first places he really found himself — understood who he was and the kind of man he wanted to grow to be.

Well, he was never going to grow up to be that man, but the Hummel's house was just as good as home as his own.

"I'm not letting you go," she said. "All of your medication is here. What if something happens? You heard what the doctor said."

"Yes, he said I have cancer. I'm not an invalid," he argued with a roll of his eyes.

While expected, it was still unbelievable. He'd been coming and going since he was sixteen and old enough to drive. If she thought she could start policing his movements now, he had another thing coming.

"Listen, I don't know how long Kurt's going to stay in town for and I just want to spend some time with him before he goes back to New York," he said, praying that she wouldn't make him verbalized the unspoken before I die. He didn't want to have to play the cancer card, but he wasn't above it either.

She stared at him with her arms crossed tightly across her chest. It was her way of letting him know that she wasn't going to change her mind. He let out a deep sigh of annoyance. He got that she was being more protective now that they finally knew why he'd been so sick, now that she knew he had cancer and it wasn't something she could heal away with the power of positive thinking, prayer and some homemade remedy that'd been passed down through generations of Filipinos.

He understood, but that didn't mean he liked it.

"This could be our last few weeks together," he said.

It was dirty, dirtier than he'd ever had to play before, but he needed to get out. Moreover, he needed some time with Kurt after weeks of fighting. He needed to be able to talk to his best friend comfortably without his parents listening in on their every word from the next room over. He needed somebody to talk to that would actually listen to his feelings instead of just brushing them under the rug by telling him that he would be okay.

"Oh, Sweetheart," she said, reaching out to stroke his cheek. There were tears in her eyes. "You're not dying. That doctor in Chicago is supposed to work wonders. Don't let this get you down. Think positively."

He rolled his eyes. That mantra may have sold over a million books, but it had never done him any favors no matter how many times she said it. He wished there was a tactful way to ask her to stop. Not that it would help, she never listened to him.

"I need him," Blaine said, voice sounding so open and vulnerable in its pleading. It was Kurt who finally taught him how to be strong and not just put on a brave face every day, but to actually believe in his own power. It's Kurt that is going to get him through this.

It wasn't anything against his family. He needed them just as much as he did Kurt, but currently Kurt wasn't the one living in denial so he was one of the only people he could talk to and get genuine advice.

She looked at him with a curious tilt of her head, as if she was really starting to see him for the first time.

"Why doesn't Kurt come over here, you two could stay in?" she asked, trying to find a compromise. He appreciated the effort; it was more than she usually did. He wasn't budging on this though.

"Because you and Dad have confined us to the living room," he explained, as if she'd somehow forgotten. She couldn't be stupid enough not to see that he clearly wanted to be alone with Kurt. It wasn't that he even expected anything sexual to happen. They were beyond that point. He wasn't sure if Kurt would ever want that kind of relationship with him again after what he'd done with Eli, but it wasn't outrageous to want some privacy.

"What if we changed the rules?" she asked. "You're an adult now, it's about time we gave you some more responsibility."

"Changed the rules to what?" he asked, wondering out far she was willing to go with this.

It made him sick to know just how much the cancer was forcing everybody to change their lives. It had already forced Kurt into talking to him again where he'd sworn up and down that he never would speak to Blaine again after cheating. Cooper was talking about auditioning for a musical in Columbus even though he hated theatre. Now it was making his religious mother consider letting another man sleep in her son's bed despite the almost weekly lectures he got about saving himself for marriage.

"Well, it's probably alright if Kurt visits your room, so long as your father and I are home."

"Mom," he said with a bored look. "Kurt and I aren't having sex. We probably won't be having sex ever again, but I'm not a little kid anymore. You're going to have to do better than that."

She clicked her tongue distastefully at him, but relented with a roll of her eyes. "He can spend the night so long as he sleeps in the guest room."

"Kurt and I have shared a bed before," he said. It was more than he'd ever been willing to share with her before but he figured the time for secrets was long past. "We've shared my bed before. You heard Cooper, I'm not a virgin."

"Blaine!" she said, scandalized and looking like she wanted to ground him forever and start quoting the Bible at him. To her credit, she managed to contain her anger.

"Mother." He was already bored with his conversation. Kurt should be there any minute and he just wanted to leave already. He was beyond stir crazy — he was actually going crazy. "Where do you think I sleep when I go over to Kurt's?"

"Fine," she said, looking like she just agreed to murder. "Just try to be respectful."

"Yes ma'am," he said, picking up his bag and putting it around his shoulder, moving to leave the room.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm still going over to Kurt's tonight," he said.

"But I just said he could stay here."

"Which is nice — I'll keep that in mind, but I'm still going over there tonight," he explained, doing his best to stay calm. "It's been forever since I've seen the Hummels and I'm sure Kurt already told Carole I was coming so she's prepared dinner."

At his mother's crestfallen look, he couldn't help but feel guilty for leaving. She wasn't a horrible person. She loved him and he knew that, it was just a bit much sometimes and he couldn't deal with it today.

"Listen, I promise I'll be back tonight — tomorrow morning at the latest," he said. "I just need a day."

She looked like she wanted to argue, but bit her tongue.

"You'll call me if you have any problems? No matter what time it is?" she asked, finally relenting.

"I promise," he said, stumbling forward to give her a grateful kiss on the cheek.

"I want to talk to Kurt before you go."

"Of course," he said with a sigh of relief and slowly made his way into the kitchen to settle in for a bit. Kurt would be there any minute, but he knew his mother would want to go over all of his medications with him and that would take a while in itself.

"Where are you going?" Cooper asked, heating up some leftover Chinese food from the fridge.

"Don't," he said, stopping any questions before they could start.

"Your brother's going to spend the night at Kurt's while we finish moving all of his stuff downstairs," his mom explained for him. Cooper raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn't say anything more.

His dad trailed in and grabbed a plate of leftovers for himself. They all sat around the island, listening to Cooper talk about how one of his friends from New York was looking for a temporary place in LA for a few months while he shot a movie. Cooper was debating subletting his place so he could stay home.

"I don't want you uprooting your life for me," Blaine said as he stole a piece of sweet and sour pork. "You can fly home to visit and I could even come and visit you out there."

"It's fine, Baby Brother," he said with a big smile. "My next commercial doesn't shoot for four months and so long as Andy wants my apartment for the few months he's in town, I'm not out any money. I can pick up some small acting or modeling jobs around here for extra cash."

"I just don't—"

"Stop," Cooper cut him off. "I want to be here, okay? Just let me be your brother for once."

Blaine looked at Cooper and didn't see an ounce of bitterness or anger at having to move back home. Instead, he just saw his love. Cooper had been away from home for more than half of Blaine's life and now he just wanted some time together. Blaine couldn't argue with that.

"Alright," he said with a small smile. "Maybe we could go see White Christmas in Columbus together."

"I'd like that," Cooper agreed. "Actually, Angie is playing the lead in Priscilla Queen of the Desert in January. I can probably get VIP tickets."

"That's great!" His mom chimed in from where she'd been putting together all of Blaine's medicines and writing long notes about each one for Kurt. Blaine would have stopped her and said it was unnecessary, but he knew Kurt well enough to know that he'd be just as paranoid about his meds as she was.

"I still don't understand why you two broke up," his dad said.

"Please, just let it go, Dad," Cooper said. "We're just friends now."

"But she was always so nice; you could use a nice girl. You won't be young forever and I want some grandbabies," his mom said, causing Cooper to roll his eyes and Blaine to snort.

"She's married to Garret, you went to their wedding," Cooper argued, looking to Blaine for help.

"No, this is Karma for throwing me under the bus at the hospital," he chuckled.

The two of them continued to bicker playfully as the doorbell rang and his dad went to go get it since it would have taken Blaine a good ten minutes to make it to the door.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Anderson," Blaine heard Kurt greet his dad and a few minutes later he entered the kitchen.

It sounded cheesy, but Blaine's breath still caught a little every time Kurt entered a room. Like everything would stop and when it restarted again, suddenly breathing was easier and his heartbeat relaxed, like it recognized it wasn't alone anymore. It was like that every single time and he prayed that never changed.

"Good afternoon, everyone," Kurt said politely as everyone exchanged greetings.

"I wanted to thank you again for coming over and moving most of Blaine's stuff," his mom said. "It was a big help."

"Wait, you moved the stuff?" Blaine asked, surprised that he didn't know this.

"It wasn't a big deal," he said. "My dad, Finn and Sam came over with me and we had most of it done in a couple of hours. I'm just sorry we couldn't get it all finished, but we didn't feel comfortable moving some of the personal stuff."

"It's fine, you did more than enough," his dad said with a genuine smile.

It was the first time Blaine had ever seen his dad talk to Kurt with any sort of positive emotion. Usually, Blaine considered it a victory if his dad was apathetic towards Kurt. It was better than the blatant annoyance he used to get whenever he brought Kurt home.

It wasn't that his parents cared about him being gay, though that had taken him a long time to understand. They were just never crazy about Kurt because they thought that Blaine was too attached to him for how young they both were. His parents were constantly telling him how unhealthy it was. It had taken an entire summer to convince them to let him transfer to McKinley and even then, he'd been at Dalton an entire week before they'd relented.

"Did you boys want some dinner before you go?" his mom asked.

"No, thank you," Kurt answered for them. "Carole's cooking chicken and dumplings at home."

"Seriously?" he asked, his face lighting up at the prospect. Blaine had spent many dinners with the Hummel-Hudsons and he loved everything Carole and Kurt ever fed him, but there was just something special about her chicken and dumplings that always found him eating third and sometimes even fourth helpings.

Kurt smiled at him knowingly. He didn't need to say why Carole was cooking chicken and dumplings, Blaine knew it was because it was his favorite meal and that made him feel incredibly loved.

"In fact, we should probably get going so we aren't late. You ready?" Kurt asked.

"Mom wants to go through all of the worst possible scenarios with you until you're too terrified to take me in," Blaine said, causing his mom to protest that she just wanted to make sure he was taken care of.

"Of course, I want to do whatever I can to help him," Kurt said, giving Blaine a playful glare at his protest. It was then that Kurt seemed to look him up and down for the first time, taking in his red cardigan and blue striped shirt with a smile before frowning at his grey sweatpants like they were the most offensive things he'd ever seen.

"They are the only pants that fit over my cast," he said defensively before Kurt could even start.

"Which wouldn't have happened if you wore pants that actually fit you properly," his dad teased. "I don't know how you boys even breathe in those things you paint on yourselves."

"The price of fashion," Kurt said, not taking his dad's ribbing to heart. "I can help you tailor some stuff to fit. I don't know if I can handle you going out in public in sweatpants."

Blaine looked at him hopefully, before he nodded, a silent promise. Blaine lit up in relief. He might not have looked like he walked off a runway the same way Kurt did, but that didn't mean he didn't care about fashion. He had been disappointed when he realized he wouldn't be able to wear any of his favorite clothes for the next five weeks. Especially since he was still in the process of wooing back the only other person to fully appreciate his fashion sense.

"Why don't you go get some of your pants packed for me to tailor and I'll go over all the boring medical stuff with your mom," Kurt suggested.

Cooper was nice enough to help Blaine pack up a small bag of some of his favorites, careful not to pack too many things so that he would have something to wear once the cast came off. By the time he was done, Kurt had thankfully wrapped things up with his mother and was hugging her goodbye at the front door like old friends.

"Call me if you feel sick," she said, pulling him into a tight hug like he was leaving for months, not for the night.

"I will," he promised, pulling back to kiss her on the cheek.

"Have a good night," she said with a sad smile and waved.

"Let's go, Tiny Tim," Kurt said, taking his elbow to help him balance.

Blaine glared at him, good naturedly. "Is that it or do you have more saved up?"

Kurt smirked at him but didn't comment further as they slowly made their way down the front steps and out to the driveway. He heard the door close behind them once they were safely to the car and Blaine couldn't help but pull Kurt into a hug now that they had privacy.

"Thank you for coming," Blaine said, unable to stop himself from smelling Kurt's neck. He still wore the same cologne, the heady scent Blaine had picked out for him as a birthday present.

"Of course," he said, pulling back with a faint blush and Blaine realized it was the closest they'd been since the break up. All of their touches before had been innocent enough to be considered friendly, but the way Blaine had nuzzled into him was anything but. He hoped he hadn't crossed a line.

Kurt opened the door and it took a few minutes of fumbling to get him into the car and buckled up.

"I feel completely useless," he grumbled.

"You're much more patient about it than I would be," Kurt reassured him and soon they were pulling out of the driveway.

"You know Sam's not going to be there tonight," Kurt commented, giving him a look like he was testing him. "He's at Jake's."

"Okay," he responded slowly, unsure what Kurt was getting at. "I wasn't asking."

"Weren't you?"

Blaine didn't know how to take that. If he'd wanted to see Sam, he would have called him. He knew that the two were still living under the same roof, but he wouldn't call one just so he could see the other. Especially not with the way the two were getting along lately.

Blaine reached forward and turned up the radio to cover up the silence.

After a few minutes the tension in the air faded and Kurt commented on one of the songs that came over with a small smile—a silent apology. After that, the lack of talking wasn't awkward but the conversation wasn't overflowing as it once was when their lives intersected so seamlessly. Their lives had gone in different directions recently and every story Blaine would have usually told him just didn't seem important now. Kurt was so much wiser and more mature now that he lived in the city; Blaine didn't think he'd laugh at the New Direction's latest drama the way that he used to. No, he'd look down on them like the silly, naive children they were and that was the last thing Blaine wanted.

He wanted to be good enough for Kurt again. He didn't want Kurt to remember all the reasons he'd stopped picking up the phone the first time. This time Blaine would be more interesting. He'd keep all of his foolish daydreams to himself and only talk to Kurt about the things that mattered.

"So are you excited about the elections in Maryland, Maine, and Washington deciding to legalize same sex marriage?" Blaine asked, figuring he was safe if they talked about politics. That was an adult topic, right? "It's a sign things have to be changing right?"

"Yeah, there was a pretty awesome party to celebrate at a gay club one of Isabelle's friends snuck Rachel and I into. Sad it'll probably never happen in Ohio," Kurt commented.

So Kurt was going to clubs now. Interesting. Blaine hadn't thought that was Kurt's scene, but then again, maybe he didn't really know what Kurt's scene was anymore. He wondered if Kurt went out a lot and, if he did, how often he got hit on. He couldn't imagine somebody as beautiful as Kurt being able to walk into a gay bar and not get showered with attention.

The thought caused his stomach to twist into knots as he tried to remind himself that he didn't have a right to be jealous after what he'd done.

"All it would take is a federal law and Ohio wouldn't have a choice," Blaine said. "I guess it doesn't really matter though, does it? It'll never happen in my lifetime."

"Oh, Blaine," Kurt said, his voice strangled in his throat, causing the words to sound mangled.

"It's alright. I always said I wanted to see a day where same-sex marriage was legal, and I guess I have. Just not in my state," he said with a shrug, trying not to think too hard about it.

"It's fine," he reassured Kurt when it looked like he was about to cry. "It's not like I'd have anybody to marry even if it was legal."

Blaine looked over at Kurt whose eyes were purposefully glued to the road ahead. It was a long shot, but he'd hoped that Kurt might have argued with him. They fell into silence again, but this time the awkwardness settled in and was pressing down on them. The air was filled with thousands of unsaid words.

It had been stupid for Blaine to make that comment in the first place. He knew their relationship was nowhere near where it once was and he couldn't expect Kurt to just jump back into those feelings.

"At least you saw repeal of 'Don't Ask, Don't Tell'," Kurt said with a chipper voice, trying to lighten the mood.

"Yeah," he nodded along, smiling at the memory. "That was the day I transferred to McKinley."

"That was a good day," Kurt said and Blaine couldn't tell if he was referring to the repeal, Blaine's transfer, or the night that followed after the announcement. The night Blaine's parents hadn't been home and they'd gotten off for the first time together after some heated, celebratory rutting, causing them to make the rule about hands staying north of the equator. They hadn't been ready for anything like that yet, though neither of them had regretted the happy accident, even if Kurt did have to go home in sticky pants.

"My mom said you could stay at my house," he said, changing the topic before his mind could go too far with that thought, unfortunately, thinking about how Kurt was now allowed to sleep in his room did nothing to get rid of that visual.

"Interesting turn of events," Kurt commented, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Blaine's parents had always been incredibly strict about when and where Kurt was allowed into their house. "So why aren't we?"

"I just need a break for the night," he said. "Plus, I've missed your family."

"Well, that's good to know because my dad and Carole are beside themselves with joy that you're coming over," Kurt said. "You know they'll always consider you one of their own."

"They're really great," he said, not really sure what else to say to that.

He was happy, of course, but then again he didn't know how Kurt felt about his parents loving him after everything that had happened. Had Kurt expected Burt to hate Blaine after everything? It didn't sound like Burt had cared. Had Kurt even told him about why they'd broken up? He couldn't imagine Kurt keeping that a secret, not with how close they were.

They pulled into Kurt's driveway and Blaine already felt the warmth radiating out of the house. Kurt's home was much smaller than Blaine's but it never felt that way. Where Blaine's house was big, it could often feel cold, especially when his parents were working late or out of town. Kurt's house was homey and full of love. Blaine always imagined, once he grew up, that this was the kind of house that he would raise a family in.

Kurt moved around the hood of the car quickly so that he could help Blaine out of the car. Blaine reached for his crutch and secured it under his arm before they started walking, Kurt's arm securely around his waist. He knew that Kurt was only trying to help him, that was all, but he couldn't help but feel a flutter in his stomach as Kurt's fingers accidentally brushed against bare skin.

Making up the driveway and through the pathway to the house was no problem with the two of them working in perfect synch, but the stairs were another issue entirely. Kurt's home unfortunately had a good ten steps to the porch which was much harder to move around. Blaine had only had to work with the single step up to his own home and thus had no idea how to even begin tackling this issue.

"I could carry you?" Kurt said, but even he sounded doubtful.

Blaine closed his eyes and shook his head, knowing that he was going to have to resort to sitting down and pulling himself up each step one by one like he'd done when he was little and his feet were too short for the stairs. Could his life get any more embarrassing? It was like every move he made just screamed out what a train wreck he was, asking for people to abandon him because it wasn't worth the effort.

Just as Blaine was moving to set down his crutch, Burt came out of the house and laughed at how pathetic the two of them looked. Between Burt and Kurt, Blaine was able to brace himself and hop awkwardly up the steps. It would have probably been quicker to let them carry him, but they saved his dignity and didn't even offer, knowing he would be ashamed to let them.

Burt helped Blaine over to the kitchen table while Kurt ran back out to grab their bags. Carole was just finishing up setting the table.

"Everything smells delicious," he said with a big smile, happy to be there for dinner. After Kurt had broken up with him, he thought his days at that dinner table were up. Sam had invited him over a few times since the breakup, but Blaine just hadn't felt comfortable going over to the house knowing what he'd done. He was happy to see that they didn't seem to be holding it against him.

"Well, eat up," Burt said. "You're going to need all the strength you can get."

"I think you're like really brave, Dude," Finn said, nodding his head along like he did whenever somebody had a good idea for Glee club. As if fighting cancer was just as cool as finding the perfect song for Sectionals.

"Finn," Kurt whispered harshly and Blaine was pretty sure there was a swift kick under the table if Finn's grimace was any indication.

"It doesn't feel brave at all," he said quietly. "It feels like somebody's chasing me with a gun and a giant stopwatch."

Blaine regretted saying it the second he did because everyone looked down at their plates with equal looks of heartbreak and misery.

"So, are you excited about the bowl games coming up?" he asked, trying to bring things around to a lighter subject so everybody would go back to looking happy instead of depressed. This home was supposed to be filled with joy, not gloom.

"I'll be happy if my team can pull their heads out of their asses and actually play," Burt said, and with that the spell seemed to be broken and everybody went back to treating this as just another day, for which he was thankful.

"Now's the time to run," Blaine said, only half jokingly as they cleaned up after dinner.

Carole and Burt had already retired to the living room at Blaine's insistence that they could handle the cleaning and Finn had gone out to meet up with some friends. Washing the dishes together was domestic and familiar, a routine they knew well. Sure, Blaine had to sit at a stool now to complete the task thanks to his broken leg, but apart from that, it felt like any other night together. Blaine washed while Kurt dried so that Kurt could give him a hard time when he didn't wash things up to standard. In the past, this always resulted in Blaine flicking soapy water at him and Kurt would then kiss him into submission.

It was a dance they had done a million times, but Blaine didn't think they were moving to the same song anymore. He wanted to know where Kurt's head was at — he'd been trying to think of a way to get Kurt to tell him whether he was honestly going to stay here until the end came or not. He didn't know how to bring it up though without sounding terribly selfish and needy. He needed to know what they were to each other.

"Please," Kurt scoffed at him. "I need to be here now more than ever."

"At least until you need to go back to New York," he said, clearly fishing but there wasn't any tactful way to bury his curiosity in a causal question.

"I'm not," Kurt said, matter of fact as he began putting the dried pots and pans away.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, knowing he must have misheard him.

"I'm not going back to New York, not right now," Kurt explained, but his back was to Blaine so he couldn't see his face to know if Kurt was happy about this decision or if it was one he felt forced into.

"Kurt, you can't stay here for me," he argued. "What about Vogue? What about NYADA? You're supposed to be reapplying for the spring."

"I can reapply in the fall," Kurt said, knowing the both of them heard the unspoken when you're gone. "Isabelle is letting me work from Ohio. I can do a lot of my work from home and I can just fly back when there's something pressing."

"It'll be expensive to fly back and forth," he pressed, knowing that he couldn't let Kurt do this no matter how much his brain was yelling at him to just shut up and let Kurt do this for him.

"I'll be saving money on rent. I can afford it," Kurt said.

"What about Rachel? You can't leave her without a roommate," he groaned.

"Santana's quitting school and taking my place. She hates Kentucky," Kurt said.

"There's more reasons you can't do this—" he said, hating how his mind was suddenly blank and he couldn't think of anything to say. He rubbed at his temples as a headache began to form behind his eyes. Kurt must have noticed because he pulled a glass down from the cabinet and filled it with ice water before sliding Blaine's medication for the night across the countertop.

"I've thought this through and I'm doing this. Unless you are trying to tactfully tell me that you don't want me here?" Kurt asked, and his voice went up in a panic like it always did whenever he got self-conscious and worried. Blaine hated that he ever gave him a reason to doubt himself.

"Of course I want you here," he said, carefully taking his pills to give himself time to choose his next words wisely. "New York is your dream. I've made a lot of selfish decisions lately and I don't want to be the one constantly taking things from you."

"There are more important things than Broadway. I made the choice to stay home, you didn't ask me to."

"I just feel like I'm ruining your life," he said painfully. "We made all these plans for the future and now I'm making you come back home when I won't even be here in a few months. That seems like the opposite of love. Aren't you supposed to let your loved one go spread their wings?"

"Why would we let each other go at a time like this? We should both be selfish and hold on tight— enjoy every minute because we love each other and want every last second together," Kurt said, pulling him into a hug.

"And I love you, until my dying day," Blaine sang into his shoulder and he felt Kurt tighten up.

"Okay, suddenly that song is sounding less romantic," Kurt said.

"Well, pretty soon I'll be an impulsive, forgetful, evil lunatic. I think the time for romance is over," Blaine said bitterly.

"Not possible," Kurt said. "You'll always be my Prince Charming."

"Even when the tumor causes me to cheat on you and destroys everything I love?" Blaine said, still bitter.

"Can I ask you something honestly? Now that we know it was likely the tumor that led you to do it?" Kurt asked nervously, like he didn't want to know the answer.

"Sure," he said, he'd never been anything but open about what had happened, it was Kurt who hadn't wanted to hear the details.

"Why did you do it?" he asked.

"Kurt—I already told you, I don't understand what I was thinking," he said, surprised they were suddenly back to this.

"No, I get what happened. The tumor impaired your judgment. You clearly couldn't connect the cheating to something bad and I'm sure once you started fooling around your natural impulse was to keep going even though your brain would have usually said no. I get that you couldn't exactly control it even though it still pissed me off... I just want to understand why this happened to begin with. Why was your impulse to go to somebody else and not me?" Kurt asked the ground and Blaine heart broke into a million little pieces at how small he sounded.

This wasn't a question he wanted to answer because he knew how much it would hurt Kurt. How it would seem like Blaine was blaming him when he wasn't. There was never a good reason to cheat.

"Blaine, please," Kurt whispered. "If we want to prevent this from happening again, I need to understand what you were thinking."

"I was lonely," he said, quietly. He twisted the dish towel in his lap around, tying it into a knot and undoing it, only to tie it again, his hands anxious to do something.

"Of course you were, we both were," Kurt said.

"No, it was different," he said, hating how he was so quick to snap now. He mentally took a minute to calm down and remind himself that the tumor in his head didn't have to turn him into a monster. He didn't have to lash out and scream at everyone whenever he felt the rage hit.

"How was it different?" Kurt asked, not accusing, just curious.

"You had Rachel," he said, feeling himself calm down again.

He wondered if all of his emotions would be as fleeting as the rage was. Would he soon only be able to feel happiness in such short bursts as well? He hoped that wasn't the case, it sounded horrible.

"You had Rachel and Vogue and New York to keep you company. I was alone," he explained. "Everyone I loved had left. I had to make brand new friends. It was incredibly isolating and then you stopped answering my texts right away. You started cutting calls short or missing Skype dates. You'd tell me to call at nine when you'd be home, then you wouldn't answer."

"I always get stuck at work later than I plan," Kurt cut in, starting to make excuses before Blaine looked up and silently begged him to remain quiet so that Blaine could get through his speech.

He could already feel the headache starting to grow and he was getting tired. It was going to take all of his energy to get this story out. Blaine hadn't quite gotten back into the groove of being up all day after napping every few hours in the hospital. Moving around with his cast was exhausting.

"I got to thinking that maybe — just maybe — we weren't meant to be together. Maybe people were right and high school romances couldn't last. I started thinking I had to prepare myself for the break-up because I knew it was only a matter of time before big exciting New York became exciting new boys who would be there like I couldn't be. They would be so much more cultured and educated than I could ever hope to be and I wouldn't be able to compete."

"That was never going to happen," Kurt said, miserably.

"You say that now, but I was convinced you would realize that you could do better than a high school boy in Ohio. So, I guess my mind just started seeking out other people to ease the pain. I don't remember meeting Eli, but when he sent me that Facebook message, I did agree to it. I guess a part of me — a careless, terrified part of me just said 'why not' and I did."

Blaine had to pause to take a sip of water. His vision was starting to blur a bit so he closed his eyes. The headaches didn't usually come at night, but Blaine figured it had to do with all of the excitement of the day after a week of being cooped up in the hospital.

"Are you okay?" Kurt asked, putting his hand on the back of Blaine's neck and massaging it like his mom had started doing whenever the headaches hit.

"Fine," he said with a wave of his hand, and he was. He'd grown used to the pain enough by now that he could deal with it. "Can you just turn off the lights?"

Kurt moved to turn off the lights in the room until the only light was coming from a small bulb under the microwave. Blaine opened his eyes again, happy to see that the darkness helped some. The rest of the symptoms would pass given enough time.

"Sorry," he said, then got back to the story. "Anyway, I felt so sick afterwards. I threw up every day that week and the following one. It's why I didn't tell you sooner. I wanted to tell you in person but I was so sick — I guess that was the cancer, too. I thought it was just the guilt. I guess my conscious kicked back in the moment I was finished..."

They both blushed when they realized the sexual connotation of the word. Blaine didn't like to think about the things he'd let Eli do to his body and he was sure Kurt didn't appreciate the visual.

"I guess once I left, I remembered how special and unique or love is — was?"

"Is," Kurt corrected him tearfully and Blaine's heart skipped a beat in desperate hope.

"I ruined it," he said, feeling the ache of guilt like it had happened yesterday. "The worst part was that I didn't even understand why. I just started to believe I was a horrible person and you deserved better— I am a horrible person and you do deserve better," he corrected himself.

"We both do," Kurt said, moving in closer so he could put his hands around Blaine's neck. "I'm so sorry that you didn't feel like I cared about you anymore. I guess I got caught up in my life and forgot that love is just as much give as it is take. I promise I'll be better. Better yet, I'll be here next time," Kurt promised, pressing their foreheads together and staring into his eyes, unable to hide the tears in his eyes.

"I know it seems pointless to promise anything when I'm not in control of my own brain, but for what little it's worth, I promise to never betray your trust again like that," Blaine said.

"It's worth a lot," Kurt said. "For better, for worse, I'm here until the end."

"This is starting to sound like a proposal," he teased trying to lighting the mood before they both ended up sobbing.

"Well, you did promise yourself to me last year with a gum wrapper ring and I'm determined to hold you to it," Kurt said, leaning down until their lips met for the first time since the break up.

The last time Kurt had kissed him was upon Blaine's arrival in New York and Blaine still felt horrible for letting Kurt's lips touch his after Blaine's lips had been all over Eli's body. It felt wrong then and it still felt wrong now, like he was taking something that wasn't his to take.

Kurt pulled away first, looking confused until he noticed how hesitant Blaine was.

"I don't like what you did, I never will, but I forgive you. I really do. Okay?" Kurt smiled at him and Blaine could tell that he genuinely meant it. It felt like Christmas morning and he'd been given a gift he'd been begging for but never in a million years thought he'd actually receive.

Blaine surged forward and kissed him again, holding both of his cheeks in his hand, trying to be gentle with the brace on his wrist and hoping it wasn't terribly awkward for Kurt.

"Saying thank you isn't nearly enough, but thank you," Blaine said, keeping their lips close enough that they were touching but he still was able to talk.

"You don't have to thank me," he said.

They were interrupted by an amused clearing of the throat and that did feel like old times. Blaine had lost count at the number of times Burt had walked in on the two of them kissing, but he was always so surprised at how at easy Kurt was with it. He never got embarrassed like Blaine would have been if it had been either of his parents to walk in on them.

"In my kitchen boys, really?" he teased.

"Well, pretty soon you won't have to worry about walking in on the two of us, will you?" he said, brushing the comment off like it was no big deal. It was better to minimize the fact that he was dying, it made it easier for him to digest the news. Otherwise, when he thought about it, it was this huge, overbearing thing following him around and torturing him.

Neither Kurt nor Burt looked amused though.

"Tough crowd," he yawned, moving to stand up. It was getting late and he was tired. They had planned on watching Treme together but all Blaine could think about was getting to bed.

"Dad, can you help Blaine up to my room while I finish putting away the dishes?" Kurt asked and Blaine was thankful that he could tell how exhausted he was.

By the time Burt actually set Blaine down into the bed, Kurt had finished cleaning up the kitchen and was right behind him walking into the room.

"So, are we really at the joking stage of this already?" Kurt asked once they'd said their goodnights to Burt and shut the door safely behind them.

"Denial is the first stage, they say."

Blaine flopped back onto the bed and made grabby hands at Kurt until he joined him on top of the comforter. It had been awhile since Blaine had really cuddled with somebody and now that they had mended things, he planned on taking full advantage.

Kurt pillowed his arms on top of Blaine's chest and lay his head down; staring up at him studiously like he was trying to figure out a riddle.

"Are you going to talk to me about what's going on? I know this isn't just about your parents."

He ran his hands through Kurt's hair and tried to come up with the right words to say, the right way to explain himself. Nothing came out. He started to shake and his breathing became labored as he tried to hold in his tears. Kurt sat up and looked down at Blaine in concern. He shook his head and looked at Kurt, silently begging for help. He wasn't sure what was happening and why the room suddenly felt like it was closing in on him.

There was a horrible choking sound. It took him a few minutes to realize that it was coming from him. His body was forcing him to let it out, to let go of all the fear he'd been trying to bury down deep.

Kurt stared at him, unsure of what to do while Blaine continued to shake. He tried to swallow his tears, but he couldn't around the lump in his throat. His chest burned from the strain.

"Oh, honey," Kurt said, pulling him into his arms.

"I'm dying," he gasped.

"You're just having a panic attack, it's okay."

"No, I'm going to die," he finally cried and once the dam burst, it wouldn't stop. He was sobbing the gross, ugly tears that made his nose run and his eyes puff up until he looked like an alien. There was nothing cute about the desperate way he was gasping for air and the tears just kept coming, each sob harder than the last. It felt like he was going to crack a rib with the force of his sobs and his head was ripping apart in agony, but he couldn't stop. He didn't know if he'd ever be able to.

He tried to articulate the things he was feeling. He tried to explain how overwhelming and scary all of it was. All that he was able to get out was why and it's not fair.

"Shhh, Shhh. Just breathe. It's okay. It's going to be okay."

"I'm only eighteen," he sobs, knowing that he's being too loud. The entire house has to have heard him by now. "How is any of this okay? I have cancer! Can you fix that?"

Kurt looked at him, so sad and lost. They held onto each other tightly. Blaine was certain poor Kurt would have claw marks on his back at the way he was grabbing at him frantically. They took turns crying into each other's shoulders — crying together. They took comfort in the fact that as horrible as things were, they weren't alone in their anguish.

Blaine lost count of the number of times he thought he had it under control only to start crying again. He figured he had this coming. He'd managed to keep himself somewhat together since the diagnosis. He managed to hold his head high while his parents were freaking out, acting like he had accepted his fate. It was only a matter of time before he broke down.

He was grateful it was in front of Kurt and not his mother. She would have forced him to sign up for therapy or attend one of those support groups for kids with terminal diseases.

"We're supposed to grow old together," Blaine whispered into Kurt's neck once the sobs had turned to random teardrops.

Kurt's eyes were puffy and swollen and Blaine was pretty sure he'd popped a blood vessel in his eye with how red it was — Kurt would be horrified later — but he was still the most beautiful creature Blaine had ever seen. It was painful to know that he could have had a long life of nothing but mornings waking up next to this man, but he wouldn't.

Kurt didn't respond; there wasn't much he could say. He knew that empty promises wouldn't do them any good, but he couldn't exactly say that it was alright either. Both of them were devastated at losing each other so soon. They were supposed to have time to spend learning what it's like to live together. Time to wake up every morning in each other's arms. There was supposed to be time to fight over the color of the couch or what type of milk to buy.

He was supposed to see Kurt perform on Broadway for the first time. They were going to get married, have a family and build a life together. It wasn't right. Nothing they could say would make it right, so Kurt didn't say anything.

Blaine spent the next hour bringing up all the things he would never do, whispering it into the night, unsure if Kurt was even listening to him or if he'd fallen asleep. Eventually he ran out of things he was going to miss out on and he fell asleep, too tired to keep his eyes open a second longer.

The next morning, he woke up to Kurt gently stroking his hair, careful to avoid the bald spot from his surgery. He knew Blaine was self-conscious about it. His free hand was playing on his cell phone.

"Angry Birds?"

Kurt smiled at him and shook his head, happy to see that he was awake. He tilted his screen in his direction to show him what he'd been working on. He had the notes app open on his phone and he was making a list.

Graduate high school

Have a relationship with my parents

Go on auditions with Cooper in LA

Make amends with the Warblers

Visit/meet extended family in the Philippines

Backpack through Europe

Learn Italian

Go skinny dipping at midnight in the south of France

The screen prohibited him from being able to see the rest of the list, but he got the gist.

"You did that when I was sleeping?" he asked, a lump in his throat.

"I wanted to remember everything you said so we wouldn't miss any. I added ones that we've talked about in the past, too. You'll have to let me know if I'm missing anything."

He thought he should be used to it by now, but he was always surprised by the ways Kurt loved him. He didn't serenade him loudly in the choir room every week like Rachel. There weren't care packages sent to his door with twenty page love letters like his mother said his father had done for her when she'd moved back home for a year. His love was quiet and unassuming, but the littlest whispers into the wind found ways to echo back louder than any big sweeping gesture of Blaine's ever could.

How could he have ever doubted Kurt's love for him?

"I'm going to do everything I can to help you cross everything off this list," Kurt promised him.

"Thank you," he said with an adoring smile that he'd been told was incredibly cheesy by the rest of their friends but Kurt never seemed to mind.

His head was in Kurt's lap by that point, preening as he continued to scratch at his scalp and play with the mess that was his hair. He reached up to hold onto Kurt's free hand, wrapping it around his chest until he was trapped between the mattress and Kurt's arms. He felt safer this way, calmer.

Blaine yawned, tired again even though he'd just woken up. It was barely after seven in the morning though and his body wasn't yet accustomed to being awake so long after his time in the hospital. He'd survived the day yesterday with a single nap, but his body was punishing him today for it.

Kurt gave him a light kiss on the lips and they settled down to rest some more, wrapped in each other's arms.

He had planned on telling Kurt about the treatment last night before his epic breakdown. He'd wanted to tell him how desperately he wanted to forgo chemo and radiation and just enjoy the time he had left without worrying over doctor's appointments and test results. He was far too comfortable to move though, and he knew the admission would only upset Kurt. He should just let him get used to the idea that Blaine had cancer before springing that on him.

He could talk to him about it later, before he went home or another time. It wasn't like his parents were ever going to let him quit treatment anyway.

He snuggled in deeper to Kurt's hold, enjoying being the little spoon. He missed the feeling of being held tightly. Of being cherished like he was something special. Someone that mattered. He counted his lucky stars, not for the first time, that he had such a wonderful, forgiving person in his life.

"Is there room on your cast for me, too?" Kurt whispered into his ear, Blaine nodded.

Kurt reached over Blaine to grab a sharpie out of the bedside drawer and moved down the bed with a determined look on his face as he began writing out in his fancy cursive letters. When he pulled away, he looked proud of himself and Blaine sat up so that he could read what had been written.

I'm never saying goodbye to you.

The words settled themselves in his brain like a mantra, clawing at him hungrily. They cuddled up again and it was several minutes before Blaine realized why he felt like he was being pulled in a hundred different directions.

Kurt wasn't going to say goodbye to him.

"You aren't going to get a choice," Blaine whispered, but Kurt was already sleeping, his deep breaths tickling Blaine, reminding him that he was still there. That he'd always be right there.

The problem was, Blaine wouldn't be.


	6. Chapter 5

While Kurt slept in for a few more hours, Blaine wasn't ever able to fall back asleep. There wasn't a headache this morning, for which he was grateful, but his mind was going a mile a minute and making it hard to sleep. He kept seeing images of himself with dry cracking skin and distorted features, like Voldemort or something out of a comic book. He knew in the back of his mind that the radiotherapy wasn't going to turn him into somebody from The Hills Have Eyes. Rationally, he knew that it was a common treatment to have and would help combat his cancer. That being said, he'd seen the pictures in his history books of Chernobyl babies; he just couldn't shake the fear that he was going to lose everything good in his life.

"Morning," Kurt yawned, rolling onto his back to stretch out.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," he replied. Now that Kurt was up, Blaine crawled out of bed and slowly hobbled his way into the bathroom to brush his teeth, busying himself with getting ready for the day. He needed to stay active in order to shake his nerves. Concentrating on a different task would help him avoid feeling like he was being chased.

"Your thoughts are loud," Kurt said with a fond smile, following him to the bathroom.

He held out both of his arms, reaching for Blaine. Blaine didn't allow himself to be pulled into them, knowing Kurt had a habit of dragging them back to bed. Kurt hated mornings more than anybody Blaine had ever met and he didn't want to lay back down. The bed was full of nightmares and crippling depression. He needed to stay positive. Wasn't that the bullshit line his mother always fed him.

With enough positive thinking, Blaine, you can make anything happen.

"Is it your head?" Kurt asked with and unhappy frown, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes.

Blaine shook his head and went about brushing his teeth, eyeing the shower and wondering how he was going to manage taking one. His mother had bought him a cover to keep the cast from getting wet, but that wouldn't solve the problem of having to stand on slippery tile on one leg. He'd just been taking baths for the past week, but baths made him feel like he was five years old and he wanted to be able to feel like a man again.

Men didn't have foolish nightmares.

Blaine didn't realize that he had been obsessively brushing his teeth until Kurt moved to grab his wrist. When he finally stopped resisting and put the toothbrush down on the counter, it was stained a light pink.

"You don't have to be afraid," Kurt said, letting go of his wrist to cradle his face between his hands. "We'll find something—"

"Please," he cut him off, unable to hear it.

Blaine wasn't the only one listening when the doctor told him that he was dying, but he seemed to be the only one that really heard it. There were only months, maybe a year with an intensive treatment plan. He'd heard the doctors discuss radiation versus chemotherapy treatments and central lines. He'd heard all the reasons why the tumor couldn't be operated on. If they tried to take part of the tumor out, they risked damaging vital parts of his brain.

Blaine understood the facts of his situation. It was just hard to accept when everybody kept acting like 'this too shall pass.'

It was hard to stay positive when his parents kept arguing over which top of the line cancer facility would be best.

It was hard to focus on enjoying his time left when Cooper kept filming everything, telling Blaine that he was going to want to show his kids one day when he was old and gray and, notably, still alive.

It was hard to not feel like the tumor was ruining him when everyone kept ignoring the truth. He'd thought Kurt had understood. After last night, he thought Kurt would be the one person not so deep in denial that Blaine couldn't even get a word in without being told he would be 'fine.' But maybe he was wrong.

Kurt watched him for a long time, still cradling Blaine's head in his hands. He watched him long enough for Blaine to begin feeling uncomfortable and start to fidget. Kurt tilted his head, trying to see something in Blaine's eyes. He opened his mouth to speak several times before changing his mind. He just watched, looking for an answer to a silent question.

Finally, after a very akward moment or two, he nodded.

"We could run away to Europe," Kurt said, recognizing what Blaine needed wasn't somebody fighting in his corner, but somebody to recognize that the fight was over and he just needed some comfort to soothe the pain of his loss.

"How would we pay for food?" Blaine whispered, closing his eyes and wishing Kurt's words were a promise and not just a fantasy.

"We'd sing on the street for spare change," he said, resting his forehead against Blaine's and wrapping his arms around him. They began to sway back and forth, Blaine's hands on Kurt's waist were tight as he tried to balance with his one leg, dancing to the silent music only they could hear.

"With your voice, we'd get discovered in no time," Blaine said, refusing to open his eyes. In his mind, it was just Kurt and him on the streets of Paris, trying to make their way on their own.

"We'd be whisked away to London to record our first album together," Kurt said.

"We could row boats in Hyde Park," he said with an easy smile.

"Or walk through Covet Garden," Kurt replied.

"Stalk Kate and William?"

"Run away with me," Kurt said.

His voice was so sincere that Blaine almost believed he was serious. He wanted to say yes, knowing that running away to spend his last days alone with the person he loved was the perfect way to spend the little time he had left.

Then he thought about leaving his friends behind. Thought about how Tina, Brittany and Sugar wouldn't stop texting him and begging him to come back to school soon. Thought about how Sam dropped off a large stack of comic books to read so he wouldn't get bored while he was recovering. Cooper'd agreed to move back home just so he'd be closer to Blaine. His mom and dad were desperately holding on to him because they didn't know how to live in a world without him. They couldn't bury their son.

He wanted to hug all of those people close and never let go and that wouldn't be possible from 4,000 miles away.

"I want to," he said, not knowing how to adequately explain himself. He always struggled to find the right words for every situation, speaking slowly and carefully. He didn't like speaking before he could think. Words should paint a picture, they should be used to build towards something, not tear it down. Words mattered.

How did he tell Kurt that he wanted to give in and let himself die living a fantasy, but he didn't know how to give up if everyone was going to keep holding on.

"Maybe we can talk your mom into a vacation," he said.

"I barely convinced her to let me come to your house for a night," Blaine responded, feeling defeated. The fantasy had been short lived and perfect, if only...

His life was going to be a long list of if only from now on.

Around six-thirty the next day, Cooper slipped into his room to wake him up gently. Blaine was exhausted. He hadn't been sleeping the last two nights due to his frequent nightmares. He'd dreamed of so many horrible things it was hard to keep them all straight between the radiation poisoning, funerals and the particularly bad one in which everyone he loved was happy when he died.

"Mom's got breakfast waiting for you," Cooper said quietly, sensitive to the fact that Blaine's headaches were usually worse in the mornings. "She wants you to have a nice meal before your first treatment."

"Why? So I can throw it up later?" he mumbled grumpily, trying to pull the covers back over his head. "Tell her I'm not going."

"Fat chance, Squirt." Cooper pulled the covers down and ruffled his hair teasingly.

"Don't call me that," he grumbled, pushing Cooper's hand away.

"Well, then get your lazy ass up," he said, pulling on Blaine's arms until he was sitting up.

He wasn't in the mood to deal with his brother right now. He was on edge and could barely contain the rage that was boiling inside. He wasn't even sure where it was coming from, but he was sure it had something to do with the treatment. The radiation he didn't want but his parents were forcing on him because they 'love' him. It was complete bullshit and he wanted everyone to know it.

"No." He shoved Cooper away, his hands instantly going into fists. He'd never been so eager to fight, but he was ready today. He felt like punching anyone that looked at him the wrong way. "I'm not going, okay? I'm serious. I'm eighteen and you can't make me."

"This is crazy, you have to go," Cooper said, obviously frustrated. "Stop being such a spoiled brat and get downstairs before mom covers the entire kitchen in muffins. She's stress baking and we've already got more cookies than any human could possibly consume in a lifetime."

"What part of I'm not going did you not understand? Did they turn you into a complete idiot in LA or were you always this stupid?"

His voice was vicious. He didn't even know he was capable of sounding like that. He knew he should stop, that this was getting out of hand, but he couldn't. It was like something had snapped inside of him and he'd lost all control of himself.

"The part where if you don't go, you die." Cooper stood up and threw his hands out, obviously fed up with the situation.

"I'm dying anyways you piece of shit," Blaine swore.

It sounded strange coming out of his mouth. He so rarely cursed to begin with. He threw the covers all of the way off of him and stood up out of bed, shoving Cooper to the floor in the process. He wanted to dramatically storm off to his bathroom, but the best he could manage with his cast was quickly hopping away. He settled for slamming the door behind himself, locking Cooper out.

He had no intention of leaving, ever. He'd opened his mouth to say that he was done with doctors, but each time he tried to talk about it, he was cut off. Now, he'd finally snapped. After little more than an hour's sleep, he'd made up his mind. He wasn't going to prolong his life with radiation when there was no chance of a cure. It was agonizing enough waking up in the mornings with blinding headaches, why would he want that to last any longer if he knew he was going to die anyway?

"This is just like you, Blaine," Cooper yelled through the door, pounding on it several times and trying the lock before giving up. "You always throw fits for attention. Newsflash, it stopped being cute when you were four."

"Fuck you," Blaine screamed back.

He heard his brother leave the bedroom with a slam of the door. Blaine allowed himself the satisfaction of knowing that he'd won this round. He'd convinced Cooper to leave him alone. He was further impressed that his mother waited a solid half an hour before coming up and trying her luck at convincing Blaine to leave the bathroom.

"Blaine, Sweetheart," she said gently knocking. "Can you open the door for me?"

He didn't respond. He wasn't stupid enough to think that he could get away with cursing at his mother like he'd done Cooper, but he was not about to let her in either. He knew that the second his family got to him, they would drag him to the hospital kicking and screaming.

"I know you're scared, Baby," she said. "But you have to go to this appointment. You have to do this. If not for yourself, then for your family, Sweetheart. We love you and we need you to keep fighting this. You're never going to get better if you don't believe you can; if you don't try."

Blaine rolled his eyes. He didn't understand how she could stand there and tell him the same psycho-bullshit she wrote in her self help books. He was dying of cancer, not depressed. This wasn't a lack of motivation to get off the couch and finish his college degree or some other meaningless shit. This was a medical disease that had no cure. No amount of talking and self belief could combat that kind of science.

"Blaine Devon Anderson, you unlock this door this instant," his father started to shout through the door. "We do not lock doors in this house."

Blaine wondered how long he would have to sit in the bathroom before they left him alone. He hoped it was long enough that he missed his appointment. Then he could come out of his room, pack a bag, and run away. He didn't ever have to come back to this place if he didn't want to. That was the beauty of being eighteen.

He laid down in the soft rug of the spacious bathroom, rolling up a towel to use as a pillow. The cool tile under him felt nice and relaxing. On the other side, his parents and Cooper continued to talk at him for over an hour. He wondered why they hadn't broken the door down yet, but then again, his parents had always believed in the importance of conversation rather than violence.

He started to feel his anger fade and was replaced with another feeling that he couldn't quite put into words. It was part guilt over being so mean to Cooper, who was obviously only trying to help. It was part helplessness, like he had no voice in his family. As if his life would never be his own. There was another feeling, a more overwhelming one that was drowning him.

Fear.

He was terrified, but he didn't understand why. He knew that his fear of radiation was completely irrational. He wasn't actually going to turn into some mutant due to radiation. No matter what Artie might say, he wasn't going to become The Incredible Hulk either. It didn't matter how many times he told himself this though, he was still scared. He just didn't understand of what.

Fighting? He thought he might be scared to fight. Shit, he knew he was scared to fight back against this crippling disease that was trying to take over his entire life. Why, though?

"Blaine?" Sam's voice called him gently through the door.

He wondered who made the call. How desperate they must have been to decide that this might be a problem one of his friends could better solve. He wondered what made them call Sam instead of Kurt, not that he was complaining. Blaine wasn't sure he could voice his fears to Kurt any easier than he could to his family, they all had too big a stake in Blaine's future.

How guilty was Blaine going to have to feel if he opened the door for Sam but he hadn't for his family?

"I'm not going to make you come out if you don't want to, but could you please let me in?"

Blaine sat up, feeling a bit lightheaded from the sudden movement and scooted over towards the door. He paused with his hands on the handle, debating if he should open it or not. He wanted to see Sam. He knew it wasn't healthy to lock himself in a dark bathroom with only his spiraling thoughts to keep him company and Sam was always great at helping him see reason. He'd kept Blaine from transferring back to Dalton a few weeks back, hadn't he?

He wanted to talk to somebody, he just didn't trust his parents not to drag him kicking and screaming to the hospital the second he opened the door.

"Your parents are leaving. They said they would wait downstairs so we could have some privacy. Just let me in. I haven't perfected my X-Ray vision yet and I feel weird talking to you when I can't see you," he said.

"You talk to me on the phone all the time and you can't see me," Blaine responded.

"Quit being a dick and open the door," Sam said, not unkindly.

Blaine turned the lock on the bathroom door, but he didn't open it. He knew Sam would hear the click of the lock and make his own way inside. Blaine lay back down on the tile and stared up at the dark ceiling. A moment later Sam was sitting against the tub, patting his lap as if to invite Blaine to lay in it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, suspiciously.

"I don't know, my mom always does it to me when I'm feeling bad," Sam shrugged like he hadn't thought about how weird it might be. He probably hadn't. Sam never shied away from showing him affection just because Blaine was gay and he was straight.

"I'm flattered, but I'm taken," Blaine said, teasing him.

"What? No? I mean... taken? So, Kurt got his head out of his ass?" Sam asked.

"Are you really here to talk about Kurt?"

"I'm here to talk about whatever you want, Dude," Sam said. "You're the one that locked yourself in a bathroom."

Blaine didn't respond and he expected Sam to press him into saying more, to ask why he continued to lay on the dark bathroom floor, but he remained silent. Blaine let himself relax back into the peaceful darkness and tried to clear his thoughts. His mind kept drifting off to thoughts of death, though Blaine tried not to let himself linger there too long. It was a dangerous topic to think about for any period of time, but his brain just kept coming up with more questions the more he avoided thinking about it.

There were so many questions that he'd never know the answer to and he hated that. Blaine, who was always so prepared for everything, couldn't prepare for this. He had no way of knowing how to. Not knowing what was ahead for him made his stomach twist up until he felt dizzying nausea.

What would happen to him once he lost the fight? Would it be easier to let go if he knew what to expect when the time finally came?

It should be easy to let go. All of the hard stuff would come before. All of the pain and the suffering would be the worst part. It was like he was holding onto a ledge by his fingertips and everyone kept telling him to keep holding on a little bit longer and help would come, but help wasn't coming. It never would. All it would take for his pain to finally be over was to relax and let go. Falling would be easy, effortless. It would only be scary for a second and then it would be over.

The thought should have been more comforting than it was. Hell, he'd been telling himself for days that he welcomed that moment, that he'd accepted his defeat. He'd been trying repeatedly to tell his parents he had and they just wouldn't listen.

So why did it terrify him so much?

"Do you really believe in God?" Blaine asked after almost half an hour of silence, not entirely sure why that was the question he decided to ask when there were so many to chose from and he already knew what Sam would say.

"I do," Sam answered without a hint of doubt in his voice. He was so sure, so confident in his beliefs and Blaine respected that. He used to have that before he came out and had it beaten out of him. "Do you?"

Blaine didn't respond right away, though any other time he'd been asked since starting high school he'd responded with a very loud no.

"I used to, but now? I guess I'm just hopeful none of it is true," he finally responded.

Sam moved to lay down beside him. They were sitting too far away for a conversation this intimate.

"What do you mean?" Sam asked voice barely above a whisper, like he might scare Blaine off. Blaine looked over at him and could see the sad smile he was wearing. It wasn't the pitying smile that everyone else gives him, there was understanding behind it. Less guilt, like everyone else believed they should have somehow prevented the cancer from happening.

"Why would I want some all powerful man to exist that claims loving other men — something I can't help and wouldn't change if I could — is wrong? If it's true, then all these horrible things that have happened to me have been some sort of punishment for being gay. For choosing to live my life in sin. Getting bullied and beaten at my old school, Kurt breaking up with me, getting cancer? I don't want to have to think of those things being my fault all because I didn't try to pray away the gay."

"Any God that doesn't want you is wrong," Sam said, reaching out to put a comforting hand over Blaine's. "You're one of the good guys and I don't know where you've been going to church, but my God doesn't turn away the good guys. He doesn't even turn away the bad ones."

"Doesn't change the fact that God hates gays."

"God doesn't hate gays, Christians do, and only the really crazy fanatic ones at that. There's a difference."

"I'm not sure it matters at this point," Blaine said, though he knew it did. He needed to sort out his beliefs before he died and come to terms with whatever high power was or wasn't out there. The last thing he needed was to end up in eternal damnation.

They fell back into silence. Blaine tapped out the beat to some song on the tile anxiously, unaware that he was even doing it until Sam reached over to stop him. He'd been more fidgety recently. He was incapable of staying completely still for more than few minutes. It was silly, but on some subconscious level he was doing it to remind himself that he still had control over his own body. The times where he couldn't force his body to walk straight or speak clearly were becoming more frequent and he liked to appreciate the moments where he could control himself.

"What made you ask that?"

"What do you think happens to us when we die?" Blaine asked, his question is enough of an explanation for Sam.

"Is this why you locked yourself in here in the dark? Are you worried?" he asked.

"What if there's nothing on the other side?" Blaine's voice was wet and he realized that he'd started crying.

"There is, there has to be," Sam said. "You just have to believe."

"What if there's not?"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, so quietly that Blaine barely heard him. He could hear the fear in Sam's voice.

"How do you go from being this fully capable living being able to love, laugh, communicate and do all of these things and then you're just gone? You're buried in the dirt like you were never alive. What if there's nothing else out there? How does all of this just disappear?"

"Do you want me to tell you what I think happens when you die?" Sam asked, his voice wet as well, it was the first time in over a week that Sam hadn't been able act nonchalant and unaffected.

Blaine nodded, encouragingly.

"I don't picture big golden gates and some angel with a checklist waiting to usher you into a city on top of the clouds. I just picture waking up to the same world you've always known, the house you grew up in, and everything's just better. You know?" Sam explained and Blaine couldn't help but close his eyes and picture it.

"The pain that you once carried around like five hundred pound luggage is gone and you feel more alive than you ever felt before. Everyone you've loved and lost is there and you can still look in on the people you left behind on these little boxes, like TVs. You never have to feel alone or scared again because you're loved completely unconditionally for the first time in your life by everyone. There is no more violence or hatred in the world, it's all melted away. You've been forgiven of any wrong you've ever done and you're happy. The kind of happy you feel when you watch the person you love laugh until they cry because of something you've said. The kind of happy you got on Christmas morning when you still believed in Santa Claus and he managed to magically know exactly what you wanted. It's not some magical place off in the distance that you'd need a rainbow bridge to get to. It's your life, exactly as it is now without any of the suffering."

He pictured it in his mind, waking up in his house and walking out the door without having to worry about grumpy old Mr. Green muttering about how the homosexuals were ruining the world as he walked past with his dog. He pictured walking hand in hand down the hallway with the boy he loved without feeling scared of getting harassed or hurt. It sounded perfect, more perfect than a house made out of gold could ever be.

Then he tried to remember all of the nightmares from the last two nights, the ones that had kept him from his appointment today, but it was difficult. He could remember the images of limbs falling off of his body, but it looked ridiculous now. Comical, the fear was starting to ebb away. He knew it wasn't gone forever, but for a moment, Sam had painted him a nice enough picture to hold onto that eased his troubled mind.

"And gay, straight, or raised by Hitler, there is no way you wouldn't end up there," Sam continued. "Nobody could look at you and send you to hell. You are loving, compassionate, and hands down the nicest person I've ever met in my life. I can't promise you that there's anything else out there, nobody can. But if there is, and I believe there is, you have nothing to worry about."

"Let's see if you still believe that when I come back from my treatment with a third arm," Blaine teased, trying to lighten the mood. He wasn't uncomfortable with the way turn the conversation had taken, but it was still awkward to talk to somebody that had such strong faith when his own was permanently in question.

"Nah, you'll at least come back with something cooler like telekinesis."

"Maybe one of the doctors will experiment with me and line my bones with aluminium—"

"No, I still get to be Wolverine. I'm not having this argument with you everyday, we rock, scissor, papered it and you lost."

"Fine," Blaine grumbled, not really that upset but he was still stubborn enough to refuse to give in without a fight.

"So, you're going to go?" Sam asked, looking hopeful.

His gut sank down and settled in his toes as he thought about leaving the safety of the bathroom and going back out into the real world. He tried to picture himself at the hospital surrounded by other cancer patients, he could already see the guilty look on the nurse's face as she administered the chemicals that were only going to make him sick and wouldn't do anything to cure him. It made him want to throw up and he hadn't even started yet.

"I really don't want to," he admitted.

"Your parents will be there the whole time and I heard the Hummel's talking, Kurt's coming, too," Sam said. "You won't have to be there alone. I'll skip school if you want me there, too. Shit, all of Glee will."

"Will you promise me something?" Blaine asked, knowing he had no choice but to agree. His parents would be devastated if he didn't at least try the radiation. Cooper would never understand his decision. Kurt might never forgive him... He'd go, even if the thought scared him.

"Anything," he responded without a moment's hesitation.

"No matter how sick I get, no matter how bad it is, you'll still make sure I do something fun every day. I don't want to waste my time laying in dark bathrooms contemplating death."

"Is there a bucket list you want me to follow? Any last wishes?"

"Kurt's working on one," Blaine said. "I guess just make sure I get to spend time with everyone before I die."

"Easy enough."

"Actually," Blaine paused as the wheels in his head began to turn and he started to realize what he really wanted to do before he died—give everyone something to remember him by. "Can you find out what everybody's perfect day would be? Like not just with me, but in general. What would be number one on everybody's bucket list."

"Sure, why?"

"We're gonna make it all happen," he said with a bright smile.

For the first time since the diagnosis he actually felt calm and in control. He had a purpose. One last mission to complete and what could be better than putting a smile on each if his friends faces before he died. After all, their memories would be the ones that lived on long after he was gone. If he could give them something amazing to hold onto maybe it wouldn't hurt so much when he was gone.

"I'm down, but word of warning, Brittany's number one is to build a time machine."

"I think between my cancer, being Student Council president and Sugar's money we can easily make that happen," he said, already mentally going through his closet for anything close enough to resemble the eleventh doctor.

"I'm incredibly glad you use your powers for good and not evil," Sam said. "Now can we get up and can you shower? You smell and your dad's going to break in any second."

"He won't. You're fine."

"He was in the garage looking for the electric drill when I got here. You've got minutes."

Blaine groaned but moved to sit up. He felt gross after a night full of bad dreams. He was sweaty and grimy and didn't doubt Sam's claim that he smelled. Sam helped him stand up and patiently held onto his arm while Blaine waited for the room to stop spinning.

"Arms up," he commanded, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling it over his head.

"Woah," Blaine exclaimed, surprised. "It usually takes some foreplay to get me out of my clothes."

"Like you haven't dreamed of me taking off your clothes, I'm stacked," Sam teased. "Your mom said you'd need help showering. Something about your stitches and the cast—"

"You can't just strip me down and bathe me," he replied, his cheeks hot. He was sure his face was as red as a fire truck.

"You want to undress yourself?" Sam asked, completely baffled that Blaine wouldn't want him helping him in the shower.

"Yes, that'd be nice, thanks," he said, looking at Sam liked lost his mind. "What were you going to do? Come in with me?" He teased, only finding the situation slight funny, the rest of him was mortified.

"If that's what you needed, sure," Sam shrugged. "You're my bro."

"Well, I'm good, I promise," he said.

"Cool, I'm still gonna sit here though in case you change your mind," Sam said, taking a seat at the vanity and pulling out his phone to play with, keeping his back to Blaine to give him some privacy.

"I'm glad you came over," Blaine said, honestly.

"Anytime, Dude."

As it turned out, Blaine wasn't actually starting his radiation treatment that day, but instead was being put through a long series of tests and trial runs in something the oncologist kept saying was a simulation. It involved first injecting him with some dye and having another CT done, causing a momentary concern on his mother's part that he would have another seizure due to his first one happening the last time he'd gotten a CT scan. Thankfully he survived seizure free, but he hadn't been allowed to go home after that, which had been less than amusing to hear.

He'd then had to get fitted for a face mask which was supposed to help keep him immobile and in the exact same position every time, but it felt creepy and claustrophobic and he was pretty sure he looked like something out of a horror movie with it on. The machine that was supposed to deliver to radiation was big and completely intimidating to look up at, but he just closed his eyes and breathed, reminding himself that they would have to let him up eventually and after that he never had to come back if he didn't want to. He could continue to lock himself in the bathroom every morning if that was what it took.

They'd taken a bunch of reference pictures and even forced him to get tattoos so they could position the radiation in the exact same spot every day. They were only the size of a freckle but there were three of them and they were blue, not exactly conspicuous. One was in the center of his forehead and the other two were by his ears.

Kurt assured him that they could cover it with makeup if he wanted, but it wasn't that noticeable. Blaine knew he was lying, but let it go. The tattoos were just further proof that what he was going through was anything but normal. Maybe after watching all of this, his mother would stop living in denial. He could only hope.

After about five hours spent going from one office to another and back to the radiation room, Blaine was finally given a business card with his daily appointment schedule — Monday through Friday at ten am — and was allowed to leave.

"That was horrible," he groaned as he slowly made his way out to where his dad was waiting at the curb for them.

"It won't be that bad next time. They said you'd be in and out in less than thirty minutes each day," his mom assured him as Kurt helped him into the car before kissing him goodbye and promising to follow him home so they could spend the night together.

"Yes, except next time they'll be aiming high doses of radiation at my head and making me sick," he argued.

"It's only temporarily, the healthy cells will repair themselves," she said.

He opened his mouth to remind her that it wasn't going to repair him and that the cancer wasn't going to go away — the most they could hope for was that the cancer would stop growing and he would die a slower death — but she sent him a look that left no room for argument.

Once they were back home, Blaine grabbed Kurt and locked them in his room so that they wouldn't be bothered until at least dinner.

"Everything alright?" Kurt asked.

"I honestly don't know the answer to that," he said, throwing himself onto the bed face first. "Can we just take a nap and you can ask me that later?"

Kurt sat down on the bed and unlaced Blaine's shoes, slowly taking them off before pushing and pulling at Blaine until he was comfortable under his cocoon of blankets.

"Aren't you going to join me?" he asked.

"I've just got to grab my laptop first," Kurt reassured him before pulling his bag closer to the bed and removing his shoes, crawling under the blankets with Blaine, computer in hand.

"Work?"

"Isabelle wants me to make notes about the new website design at Vanity Fair to see if we need to make any changes," he explained, sounding so much older and more mature than Blaine when he talked about his job. Blaine was never going to be able to have that. He'd be a high school kid forever and even if he made it to graduation, he wasn't going to be able to go to University or even get a job. He was stuck in a permanent state of inadequacy.

"You don't have to stay with me, you can use my dad's study if you need to get stuff done," he said.

"Don't be silly, I wouldn't be comfortable anywhere else. Now get over here so I can play with your hair while I work."

Blaine snuggled into Kurt's shoulder as Kurt's hands found their way into his hair, gently scratching at his scalp in a way he'd always found soothing. He tried not to think about how soon Kurt wouldn't just be avoiding his bald spot, but avoiding touching his head altogether because all his hair would have fallen out.

He didn't think Kurt was vain enough to stop loving him if he went bald, but he didn't think it would turn Kurt on either. Just another worry he'd have to add to the growing list.

"Stop thinking so much and try to relax," Kurt said, kissing the top of his head.

Blaine closed his eyes and did his best to obey orders, pleased to find he fell asleep easily, too exhausted to even dream.

After dinner, Blaine sat at his computer, scrolling through a message board for kids with terminal cancer. He'd promised his mom that he'd look it over and he knew she was going to check his web history to make sure he did. He'd expected to find hundreds of posts from emo kids contemplating the meaning of life, but he was pleased to find very little of those.

If anything, most of the posts on the board were helpful tips for getting through treatments and even posts for how to deal with family and friends who were refusing to accept the diagnosis. The posters told their stories, sure, but the stories were littered with ways to survive chemo easier, or things to do during radiation to keep from panicking. There were diet tricks to avoid nausea and links to the most realistic wig shops — not that Blaine was planning on wearing any wigs, but still. The information was useful, more useful than anything the doctors had told him, so far.

Blaine was surprised to find himself flipping through more of the posts than he'd expected, happy to hear advice from kids that were just like him. Nobody was trying to tell him to get through the treatment because it would save him, they were reminding each other that there were ways to still pretend their lives were normal. There were ways to make the treatment less intimidating and survive with enough strength to still enjoy life.

Kurt was laying on his bed, engrossed in his own work, which was more than fine with Blaine. It was comforting enough just knowing Kurt was there, they didn't have to constantly talk about their feelings.

He glanced over and noticed a book that had been left of his desk and picked it up — The Death of Captain Marvel — obviously something Sam had given him if the six post-it notes attached, covered in his handwriting were any indication. He took a closer look at the notes and was surprised to see what looked like a poem.

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on that sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-Dylan Thomas

Blaine had never thought of Sam as stupid, he'd always known Sam's problem with academics was just that they didn't hold his attention. He could remember years and facts when it came to publication dates of comic books and he could remember exactly how many episodes an old cartoon had run for, he just wasn't one for the type of education school could offer. Blaine knew that Sam wasn't a dumb blond and was more perceptive when it came to people than many realized.

Still, poetry wasn't Sam's forte and Blaine wasn't entirely sure what had inspired him to even find the poem to begin with let alone write it all out for Blaine. He peeled each of the sticky notes off the cover and arranged them on the blank wall in front of his desk, not sure what it was about the words that spoke to him. It wasn't anything his mother hadn't said a million times over, but this was different. This wasn't talking about positivity and miracles so impossible they would find a unicorn before they ever found a cure. These were fighting words. They were filled with anger and anguish and were yelling at him to stop sitting around and letting life get the better of him.

They were telling him to get angry enough to make his own miracle. To push and fight because he had a right to live. He had a right to live to be an old man.

Blaine opened up the cover to begin reading and found more sticky notes.

I'm pretty sure that Dylan guy just ripped off another, more important speech that I wanted to say to you in person (because my President Thomas J. Whitmore is epic) but I knew you'd get all weird about it and would be too embarrassed to hear the words I want you to know. So here they are—

"Mankind — that word should have new meaning for all of us today. We can't be consumed by our petty differences anymore. We will be united in our common interests. Perhaps it's fate that today is the Fourth of July and you will once again be fighting for our freedom... not from tyranny, oppression, or persecution... but from annihilation. We are fighting for our right to live. To exist. And should we win the day, the Fourth of July, will no longer be known as an American holiday, but as the day the world declared in one voice" We will not go quietly into the night! We're going to live on! We're going to survive! Today we celebrate our Independence Day!"

And that was Blaine's best friend. The stupid idiot who quoted Independence Day to him and cited it as more important than a famous, sixty year old Welsh poem. Blaine wouldn't trade him for the world.

He picked up his phone and started dialing on autopilot.

"What are you doing?" Blaine asked once Sam picked up the other line, foregoing any formal greeting.

"I'm at Brittany's watching her try to teach Lord Tubbington Zumba."

"Did the vet say he was overweight again?"

"Have you seen the size of this cat?" he replied as if it was the stupidest question Blaine could have asked.

"Does that mean you two are on a date?" he asked, curious if Sam had finally asked Brittany out.

"No."

"Then do you want to come over?"

"Yeah, cool dude," Sam said. "Just me or?"

"President Whitmore can come, too, if he wants," Blaine teased.

"So, you read it," he said, his voice hesitant as if he didn't know how Blaine was going to respond.

"I did," he said slowly, leaving Sam's unspoken question hanging in the air, unanswered. He didn't know how he felt about the poem in general apart from the fact that it was sitting oddly in his stomach, making him jittery and feeling like he was supposed to be somewhere. Like he was supposed to be doing something.

"And for the record, I think that guy stole the poem from Independence Day, too," Blaine said, humoring Sam to get him to change the subject.

"Right?"

"Totally."

"So, we can talk about it or we can not talk about it," Sam said, pushing him for more information but Blaine just didn't know what to say. He knew that Sam had heard him earlier today when he said he didn't want to have the treatment, but he hadn't thought Sam would read into it that it was just because Blaine was scared of fighting and still failing.

Was that why Blaine was scared? he wasn't even sure.

"Let's not talk about it for now, okay?" he said, mostly because he didn't even understand himself.

"I finally got Avengers Assembled to finish downloading," Sam thankfully changed the subject.

"Only took you a month."

"Yeah, well it's over ten hours and nobody was seeding, so you should be happy it even finished at all."

"Sam— come over," he said, unsure why he suddenly felt the intense need to see Sam when Kurt was already here.

Kurt — the boy he used to tell everything to. The best friend he'd ever had and the only one he'd ever felt like he needed. That was before. Blaine still trusted Kurt and wanted to share things with him, but there was the flip side in which he'd grown used to telling Sam all of his secrets and it wasn't a habit easily broken.

It wasn't one he wanted broken.

"Hold on a minute," Blaine said, putting the phone on mute before turning to Kurt. "You don't mind if Sam comes over do you?"

"Sounds like you already invited him," Kurt said with a careful raise of the eyebrow that usually meant Kurt was severely annoyed with him.

"He's my best friend and he's lived in your house for the last year, why do you two hate each other all of a sudden?" he asked.

"I don't hate him. And it's your house, invite whoever you want," Kurt said.

"Why do I get the feeling that this is a test?"

Kurt didn't respond for a moment or two which only solidified the fact that this was definitely a test and Blaine was probably supposed to be picking Kurt over Sam, but he didn't think that was fair for him to dump his friends just because Kurt had taken him back.

Maybe that was the test? To see how easily Blaine could push his friends away for Kurt. If Blaine pushed everyone else away for Kurt, would that mean he failed? That he somehow prove his love and affection wasn't a permanent thing?

"Can you just tell me what you want me to do here?" Blaine asked, frustrated.

"Let Sam come over," he finally said. "We're not the best of friends right now, but we can get along for your sake."

"I'm probably supposed to be asking you why you guys are still fighting and trying to resolve it, but I'm not going to touch that."

Kurt turned back to his work without another word and Blaine took the phone off of mute so he could resume his call with Sam.

"So, are you coming?"

"Okay, but when we inevitably do start reenacting scenes from the movie, I get to be Iron Man," Sam bargained.

"Absolutely not, you're Captain America and I'm Iron Man. It doesn't make sense the other way," he argued.

"But I'm always Captain America," Sam groaned.

"Because it makes sense that way, did you not hear me?" Blaine laughed.

By the time Sam had arrived and they'd heated up some leftovers for him to eat, they'd decided to marathon Teen Wolf instead because Sam had made a fandom reference that Kurt hadn't understood and both boys had determined it was essential for Kurt to be caught up to speed on one of their favorite shows. Kurt hadn't been all that eager to agree, clearly trying to act like his taste was more superior than theirs, but Blaine knew he still loved Twilight so he didn't have a leg to stand on. All it took was a picture of Tyler Hoechlin to get him to agree.

"If that boy says he loves Allison one more time, I swear to God I'm going to break the TV. We get it, Jesus," Kurt's commentary started up almost immediately and didn't stop for the entire first season, causing Sam and Blaine to quietly seethe in fanboy rage.

"Leave Scott alone," Blaine grumbled.

"This is all of the action of a full length season but none of the character development," Kurt continued to complain. "They really should give them more episodes in a season or at least stop fighting long enough to have some character driven scenes?"

"Because Bella Swan is such a well rounded character," Blaine snapped back.

"At least she's better than this Isaac kid," Kurt argued.

"Did he just... he insulted Isaac," Sam said, looking at Blaine like he was going to explode.

"Kurt, how can you hate Isaac, he got locked in a freezer by his dad. You're supposed to want to cuddle him and help him through this hard and confusing time in his life. He's a kicked puppy. He's orphaned and he doesn't know if he's supposed to be relieved or distraught over it."

"You two are really invested in this show, aren't you?" Kurt asked, baffled.

"Sam, can you please help me out here?" he said, throwing his hands up in surrender. He didn't understand how Kurt could fantasize about Jacob Black, but not understand the complexities that made the Teen Wolf gang amazing. Sure, most of the scenes relied on viewers picking up the subtext in order to see the character development, but that was half of the fun.

"Kurt, you can't just insult Teen Wolf in front of us, it's not cool, Dude," Sam said. "Blaine here's got a plan to marry Scott and have some complicated three-way with Danny."

"You talked to Sam about a three-way you wanted to have?" Kurt crossed his arms and gave him a judgemental look.

"Mostly just to shut him up about banging Lydia but it backfired and he didn't freak out at all."

"Love is love," Sam said with a shrug. "And the more the merrier, right?"

Kurt looked between the two of them with a curious look on his face but didn't say anything else as they turned back to the show. In fact, Kurt didn't make a single comment for the rest of season two. Blaine wasn't sure if that should worry him or not, but he wasn't going to bring it up and potentially start a fight when the evening was going so well.

The next day, Blaine's mom tiptoed into the room as quietly as she could, but Blaine was still woken up. He'd always been a light sleeper.

"Is it time to go?" he asked, moving to sit up but she waved him away and whispered for him to go back to sleep.

"Sam, Honey, it's time to get up, you've got to get ready for school," she whispered and Sam groaned and tried to curl back under the covers for a moment or two, but eventually he woke up enough to satisfy her and she left.

"I guess we fell asleep," Sam said, moving to get out of bed.

"You've still got a toothbrush under the sink," he whispered, mindful of the fact that Kurt was asleep on the other side of him. Thank god his parents had invested in a King sized bed for him or last night would have been incredibly awkward for the three of them.

"Cool, I've got some extra clothes at school. I can get ready there."

"It's so weird that you're getting ready to go to school and I'm not," he said.

"You could come, we all miss you."

"I've got radiation every day at 10, I can't," he explained.

"Well you're always welcome to stop by Glee after school. You'll always be part of the team and the girls have been asking about you."

"Maybe sometime," he said, not promising anything. He had no idea how he was going to react to the radiation treatments and from all the reading he'd done, it seemed like he was going to be pretty exhausted.

Sam went into the bathroom and quickly brushed his teeth before coming back out and putting on his coat.

"Hey, Sam?" Blaine called out quietly to get his attention and waiting until he looked up. "Thanks."

"For joining in on the most vanilla threesome ever? No problem," Sam said with a playful wink.

"For letting me have a night where we argued over Teen Wolf instead of cancer," he said, honestly. Apart from Kurt, he'd never had a friend he could say these things to without them teasing him but he knew that he could trust Sam to always listen to him without judgement.

"You're still that guy I run around wearing a mask for that tries to sell me on the merits of disco. No matter what you do or don't do, whatever happens, that won't change," Sam said.

"I've been scared it would," he admitted.

"We won't let it," Sam promised. "Sugar's already bought a blue police box on Ebay and I got myself a Roman soldier costume. Once you figure out the perfect Doctor outfit all you have to do is call me and we can go back to fulfilling our pact of making our senior year as ridiculous and fun as it can possibly be."

"Have a good day at school," he said, waving goodbye as Sam walked out the door. Determined to get a few more minutes of sleep, he cuddled back into Kurt's sleeping arms, not noticing how Kurt's breathing wasn't as deep as it usually was when he was asleep.

Blaine fully woke up an hour or so later, before Kurt, as usual. He crawled out of bed and moved over to his desk to pull open his laptop to do some research on Northwestern, where his parents were taking him that weekend. He hadn't seen the point in seeing other doctors before, but there was part of his heart that was pulling at him to find out more. To see if the possibility of a cure was there. Maybe Sam was right. He couldn't just go quietly into the night without at least fighting for the life he'd built here.

Somebody somewhere had to have some good news for him, right?

"Looking up the address of Tyler Posey so you can fanboy in person?" Kurt teased, coming up behind him to wrap his arms around him and look over his shoulder at the computer screen. His eyes moved over the homepage for Mayo Clinic before turning to look at him confused.

"I decided to do some research myself," he answered Kurt's silent question.

"Do your parents know about this?"

"No, and they aren't going to," he said with a warning look. "You know how relentless my mom is about finding a cure and the chances that we'd even find somebody willing to operate is slim."

"But is that what you want? To find somebody to operate?" Kurt asked, his voice was heavily guarded.

"That operation could kill me," he reminded Kurt.

"I know."

"I don't know what I'd do with a yes," he admitted aloud, feeling just as lost as he'd been before. Deciding to start researching had done nothing to empower him, it had only made him feel more overwhelmed by all the different options and experimental trials.

"I was under the impression that you weren't looking to find out," Kurt said and Blaine could see it, the little spark of hope in Kurt's eyes that he'd been trying so hard not to ignite. He didn't want everyone believing that there was a chance he could live, it would only make them more unwilling to let go when the time came.

"Something Sam told me yesterday got me thinking, I guess," he said, running his fingers over the post-it note poem on his wall.

"Sam?"

"Don't sound so surprised," he said, side-eying him and preparing himself for whatever quip Kurt was about to make about his friend.

"I'm not... I mean, I am. But I guess he's not so bad. Last night wasn't horrible," Kurt surrendered with a deep sigh.

Blaine looked at Kurt, surprised at how quickly he'd changed his tune but, then again, Kurt had always zigged when he thought he would zag.

"He's a good friend," Kurt admitted, albeit regrettably.

"He is," he smiled. "So are you."

Blaine grabbed Kurt by the back of the neck and pulled him in for a kiss. Even though they hadn't made it around to brushing their teeth and Kurt would pull away in about ten seconds to yell at him about morning breath, Blaine didn't care. There was still nothing more perfect than being able to kiss Kurt again.


	7. Chapter 6

Blaine lay on the cool metal table and did his best to stay completely still as the radiation therapist started arranging his body like a toy, putting him into place for his treatment. He tried to force his heart rate to slow down, as if that might somehow negatively affect how the treatment worked. He tried to will his hands to stop sweating so much — what if it made him slip out of position? If he moved, the radiation could hit the wrong part of his brain and destroy his healthy cells instead and he didn't have enough of those to spare.

Even with the face mask on to help him stay in position, he still thought he was going to mess it up somehow.

What if he had a seizure? What would happen then? Would the face mask hurt as his body thrashed around against his will? Would the radiation hit the wrong part of his brain as he violently shook? If he didn't have a seizure, it might still hurt. Everyone told him it wouldn't, but what if they were lying? How could shooting high doses of radiation into his head not hurt?

He tried not to think about any of it. The message boards he'd been reading all morning suggested that he focused on something outside of the cancer to get him through it, but he didn't see how that was realistic. How could he stop his mind from focusing on all the things that could go wrong when every other second he was getting a new instruction?

"It's important that you stay still."

"Deep, even breaths."

"Move your arm up," she'd say as she manhandled him like he was a doll.

"Relax."

Nevertheless, he closed his eyes and took a deep, calming breath. To distract himself, he began to run through their Sectionals set list in his mind, determined to make it through this session without sending himself into a panic attack.

"Okay, you're all set," the therapist said with an enthusiastic smile like his pediatrician used to wear when he was five and had just been given a shot. "I'll be in the room right next door. It'll be over before you know it."

Once the massive machine was turned on and began to slowly move around his head, it probably took less than five minutes. To the people in the other room, he was positive that the entire process felt quick and painless. Five minutes went by incredibly fast when you didn't have to wear a mask that made you feel like Hannibal Lector.

He was convinced it wouldn't ever end and he had to stop running through the songs for Glee because he kept seeing himself falling off stage and letting his team down again, just like he had in Grease. Instead, he thought about what he would be doing right now if he never got cancer. He'd be in English class with Artie. They were reading The Hobbit which just figured. Of course his teacher would wait until he couldn't come to class to start reading something cool.

His skin itched and he wasn't sure if it was from the radiation or if he was just being paranoid, but either way he couldn't move to scratch it and that was driving him crazy. Then his only working leg started to tingle in a way that would have been unfamiliar if it weren't for the tumor growing inside of his head. If the machine ever stopped and he was allowed to move again, he still wouldn't be able to walk which was just his luck.

The radiation is going to work, he said to himself. It's going to work, then you're going to go to Chicago and that doctor will agree to operate and you will get through this just like you've gotten through every other hardship in your life. Nothing bad ever lasts forever, isn't that what his mom always said?

After what must have been the longest five minutes in history, the radiation therapist finally came back in and started unscrewing the mask that was holding him to the table.

"See, that wasn't so bad?" she said with a kind smile.

"Speak for yourself," he muttered, knowing he was being rude but unable to stop himself. Why did people always act so unnaturally cheerful around cancer patients?

"How do you feel?" she asked as she helped him sit up on the table. He moved to swing his legs around, but of course, only the broken one obeyed and before Blaine could even stop himself or fully understand why, he was crying.

"Hey now, it's okay," she said, immediately bringing a hand to his head to check for a temperature. "I can help you, just talk to me. What's going on?"

"My leg," he whispered, his entire face flaming in shame as tears continued to fall against his will.

"Can you feel this?" she asked him as she began tapping at both of his feet. He nodded his head.

"I can feel it, I just can't make it move," he said, frustrated.

"It's okay," she tried to soothe him. "Your tumor is pushing on your motor cortex; we knew this would be a symptom. It'll pass soon enough. Why don't I go and get you a wheelchair for now."

"If my mom sees me in a wheelchair she's going to freak out," he groaned, as he angrily clutched at the front of his pants trying to make his leg work through sheer force of will.

"You have cancer, sweetheart. Your mother is worried either way," she said. "At least this way we can get you out of this room and somewhere more relaxing. I'm sure all the stress of the morning is just catching up with your body."

"So you're saying I'm causing this to happen? Like I'm the Incredible Hulk or something and if I can just keep from getting angry I won't turn into an uncontrollable monster?" he said sarcastically.

"More or less. I'm saying that the stress isn't helping."

"I don't want my mom to see me like this," he said, resigned to the fact that there wasn't much he could do about the matter.

"Sweetheart, you can't stay here. What would you like me to do?" she asked.

"Make my leg work," he said, unable to control his snarky comments today. Thankfully, she took it all in stride and he had to wonder how often she had to deal with bratty patients.

"Let's get you into a chair and you can head on home for the day. I'm sure you'll be more comfortable there than here," she said with a smile that he didn't deserve in the least.

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't your fault," he said, gaining a better control over his emotions and he began talking himself off of the ledge he was on. He was being ridiculous and unforgivably rude.

"It's not yours, either."

Funny how having a tumor could excuse all sorts of otherwise deplorable behavior, he thought. It wasn't right. He shouldn't be allowed to treat people with less respect just because he had cancer. This wasn't the type of guy he wanted to turn into. Would this be how people remembered him when he died? Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde?

He needed to be better than this disease — if not for himself, then at least for the people around him.

"How do you feel?" his mom asked as he was rolled out into the lobby where Kurt and his parents were waiting for him.

"My leg went numb," he said, eyes glued to his cast. He couldn't bring himself to look up and see the worry in their eyes or worse, the pity.

"Is that normal?" Kurt asked.

"Completely," she explained. "If it doesn't go away in an hour or so, we can run some more tests, but I don't think that will be an issue."

"It won't have permanent effects?" his dad asked.

"Oh, God," Blaine groaned, he hadn't even considered the fact that this might last forever.

Then again, forever might not be that long if the treatment didn't work.

"Like I said, I think the symptom will pass soon enough. If it doesn't, we can run some tests but I see no reason to worry about it right now," she explained.

"How do you feel?" his mom asked, patting him on the head like he was a dog. "Do you feel like it worked?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "It's only the first treatment; I doubt I'd be able to tell."

"What was it like?" Kurt asked.

"Claustrophobic, but I guess I'll get used to it," he said with a shrug, trying to remain positive as they began pushing him along towards the exit and his dad ran ahead of them to bring the car around. The old saying that misery loves company wasn't really true and Blaine didn't want to push everyone away by complaining all of the time. He was sure he really would get used to it eventually.

"I'll get easier every time you go," his mom said with an encouraging smile. "And before you know it, you'll be cancer-free and you can go back to doing normal stuff again!"

"Right," Blaine said, biting his tongue. He'd promised himself that he was going to try and fight and part of that was letting himself believe that he could actually do this.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

No, he was going to beat this. He just had to survive the next 8 weeks of intensive treatment. They just had to find one doctor willing to operate...

After a long two weeks of wearing an air cast that prohibited him from moving his wrist, he was finally able to trade it in for a simple elastic brace, enabling him to finally use two crutches when walking. It was amazing how much easier it was for him to get around now, even with his leg still in a cast. Therefore, when it came time to leave their hotel room and head to Northwestern Memorial for his appointment, he outright refused to take a cab. Their visit was too short to actually take in any of the site so he'd insisted on walking. At least that way he'd be sure to see something, even if it was only five minutes of Michigan Avenue.

He hobbled along the sidewalk, trying to devise a plan to convince his mother that they needed to go shopping. The Ralph Lauren store they passed was calling his name and after surviving his first week of radiation he figured he deserved at least a few new sweaters, perhaps that jacket he'd seen in the window of Banana Republic?

The hospital was only a few blocks from the hotel and Blaine could manage it easily but his mother was glued to his left and his father to his right, both looking at him like they thought he would fall at any moment. He felt like a baby again taking his first steps on his own. In fact, no matter how many times his parents assured him that he was fine and tried to go about things like they were business as usual, they kept hovering. At the airport yesterday they'd insisted on a wheelchair. They'd requested a handicap accessible hotel room for his legs. His mom even tried to style his hair for him this morning.

It was too much and it had given him a headache. He'd had a headache since they'd left his radiation treatment yesterday morning, but he hadn't said anything. Anytime he talked about his symptoms, his dad would get a sad look in his eyes and his mom would nag him about taking his medication. They'd give him some encouraging words that sounded much more helpful on paper than in practice. Then they'd go back to their permanent state of denial. If you asked them, they would say that Blaine was perfectly fine.

As much as he wanted that to be true, it was a lie. On top of the headache, he'd noticed his coordination was off. This morning, he kept trying to pour shampoo into his hand and missing. He'd stumbled several times and there was a big bruise forming on his shoulder from where he'd bumped into the doorframe.

It was getting worse. He wasn't sure if it was the increased stress, the lack of sleep, or if the tumor was growing; but now his tongue was starting to tingle and go numb. His body was betraying him at a rapid pace and that scared Blaine because the radiation was supposed to be helping shrink the tumor and increased symptoms usually meant that tumor was getting larger.

"Did you email your grandfather back yesterday?" his mother asked.

Blaine had responded to his grandfather, but he just shrugged. It was embarrassing trying to talk when he couldn't use his tongue. He knew that if he said anything, his words would be slurred. His parents didn't need to hear him sound like that.

"Blaine Devon, I asked you a question! You don't just shrug at me, it's not polite."

Blaine looked up at her and shrugged again. She opened her mouth to reprimand him again before closing it and giving him a knowing look.

"Oh, sweetheart." She cupped his face in her hands and he pushed her away. He didn't want this right now.

Their pity was suffocating and he didn't want it. What he wanted was to be back home in Ohio with his friends trying to stay awake during US Government by passing notes back and forth. Or lying in Kurt's bed listening to Adele and Florence while reading the latest issue of Vogue. He wanted to be at home sleeping in his own bed, not on his way to get a second opinion because he had cancer and his doctor told him it was inoperable.

"You know it's just because you're not sleeping. They said it gets worse when you're not taking care of your body. Don't worry; the doctor we're seeing today can help you."

Blaine rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't believe this doctor could help him; he had high hopes based off of the research he'd done. That was all it was though, hope. He wanted to remind her that they might not get the news she wanted to hear today. She should be prepared for the worst so that she wouldn't cry and throw a fit like she had in the hospital last week. He couldn't tell her any of that though. Even if he could speak clearly, she would never be willing to listen.

"Hey, Sport," his dad said, squeezing his shoulder encouragingly. "Why don't we go check out Millennium Park after the appointment? They've got a lot of cool street art and we can stop by the Art Institute, too. It's right there."

Blaine was about to nod, because anything but a hospital sounded like a good plan to him and he'd always loved art. He'd love to spend some time with his dad doing something that he enjoyed doing. He'd love to pretend this was a family vacation instead of a medical obligation. Before he could agree, his mother started nagging his dad.

"Really, Bill? He's sick — he can't be outside, It's freezing. He needs rest; how do you expect him to get better? What are you thinking?"

"He's a kid," his dad said.

They continued to argue about what was best for him as if he wasn't standing right between them. They'd been neglecting to include him in any decisions about his health which was bad enough, but now he couldn't even be allowed to say whether or not he wanted to go check out some street art at the park? Wasn't it good for him to get out and keep moving as long as he could? Those message boards had said it was a good idea for him to get out and do the things he loved because it would keep his body moving, as well as keep his mind focused on the positive things.

If he could talk, he would have cut in and reminded his mother that allowing him to do the things he enjoyed was exactly the kind of thing the preached about in her self-help books, but he couldn't speak so it was a moot point.

He pushed them away and moved ahead of them as fast as his crutches could take him. He just needed some distance and wanted to be anywhere but there.

"Blaine!" he could hear his mother calling after him.

"Let him go," his dad said. "He's not even out of eyesight."

Thankful that for once in his life, it seemed like his dad understood his need for space, he pressed ahead. As he paused at the next crosswalk, he pulled his headphones out of his pocket and stuffed them into his ears, thankful for the invention of hands free headsets since walking while talking on the phone was pretty much impossible with a broken leg.

There was only one voice he wanted to hear right now.

He quickly found Kurt's name in his contacts list and pressed the call button.

"Hey," Kurt answered with his loving voice. "You finished early. I thought you weren't supposed to be done until later on this afternoon? What happened?"

Blaine felt stupid; he couldn't even say anything. He didn't know why he picked up the phone; he should have just texted Kurt. Only he knew there was very little that would have calmed him down besides hearing his boyfriend tell him it would be okay.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked, when he didn't respond.

Blaine let out a frustrated groan.

"Oh," Kurt whispered, understanding far more than Blaine had given him. "It's alright, okay? It's going to be alright. You know it doesn't usually last that long. Just try to breathe. The doctor said that stress can make your symptoms worse. It's going to be alright, you don't need to worry. Okay?"

Blaine let out something between a sigh and a whine. Kurt had already started to make him feel better, but Blaine was still embarrassed that he couldn't even say anything. He'd called Kurt on the phone and couldn't do anything more than grunt at him. He was the world's best dressed caveman.

"Is this about your parents?" Kurt asked. "Grunt or something if it is?"

Blaine grumbled something unintelligibly that, on a normal day, one where his body cooperated with him, would have been a yes.

"They love you. They are just handling this the best way that they can. You have to cut them some slack. It's not an easy thing to wrap their mind around. I'm still trying to get used to the idea," he said.

Blaine knew that Kurt was right. Kurt was always right. It was one of the reasons Blaine loved him so much. He always knew the right thing to say to calm him down and make him feel better. He was always so strong, like a rock. Blaine wished he had some of that strength. He could use it right about now.

"Just try to be patient," he continued. "You told yourself that you were going to try. If this doctor can't help you then he can't help you, but at least you tried. The worst thing he can do is say no and then you'll be exactly where you are now. But you have to give somebody the chance to say yes, that's the only way you'll be able to fight this. That's all your parents are doing, they are trying to help you fight this the only way they know how."

"I-ov-eww-ooo," Blaine said, hoping Kurt understood what he was saying. He blushed, ashamed of how his voice sounded. Wasn't it enough that the tumor was taking his life, did it really need to take his voice, too? He realized that he needed to stop hiding from Kurt. If his boyfriend was really in it for the long haul like he said he was, he had a lot worse than a few slurred 'I love you's' ahead of him.

"I love you, too. Okay? So much." Blaine could hear the smile in his voice. "Listen, I'm running out the door that that interview Isabelle wants me to do and you should really hang up and get back to whatever it was you were doing. Text me when you're finished and have some news okay?"

They hung up the phone and Blaine realized that he was standing in front of the hospital. It was big, much bigger than his hospital back in Ohio. It didn't even look like a hospital, it looked like an entrance to one of the city's many skyscraper offices, and it was just so tall. As he peered through the door, he saw a big purple banner with the hospital's logo and the words, "Welcome to One of America's Best Hospitals."

His stomach began to bubble with nerves and everything suddenly got a whole lot more real. This was it. One of the best doctors in the country was going to take a scan of his brain and tell him if he was going to be able to operate or not. He was going to tell Blaine if he was going to survive or not.

The stakes were suddenly higher than he could reach and no matter how much Kurt's phone call had calmed him down, it was worthless in the face of all of this.

It was only a minute later that his parents finally caught back up to him and this time, he felt himself reaching out for his mom's hand. No matter how annoyed he had been with them previously, there was no way he was going to be able to go through those doors without his parents there to reassure him it would all be okay.

"These people can only help us, okay?" his father said with a sympathetic smile.

"It's going to be alright, Baby." His mom squeezed his hand tightly.

Blaine worried his bottom lip, but nodded bravely. He followed in after his father; his mother, thankfully, didn't leave his side. They entered into the spacious lobby and Blaine was surprised to see that there weren't any bright and obvious signs directing people where to go. Everything looked rather elegant and sleek. It looked expensive. He didn't want to think about how much an appointment like this was going to cost his parents.

After speaking to somebody at the reception desk, they were handed a map and directed towards the elevators. As they waited for their elevator to arrive, Blaine looked down at the map they'd been given. This hospital was much bigger than the one he had been going to in Ohio. There were several buildings that belonged to the hospital scattered throughout the neighborhood and the list of wings the hospital had was extensive. He didn't realize doctors could specialize in so many different things. He supposed that was supposed to be part of the appeal, the more specialized the doctor, the better the care.

What was the difference between the cancer center and the center for brain tumors and which one would he be going to?

They all walked onto the elevator, silently. None of them had much to say. He could tell that his parents were walking on eggshells with him. He didn't know how that made him feel. On one hand, it was nice that they were acknowledging his needs for a change. On the other hand, he didn't want them to treat him like a delicate piece of china. One wrong move and he'd come crashing to the floor, shattered.

They made their way down a few twists and turns, following the signs hanging from the ceiling until they finally reached the wing for brain tumors. The sign alone made his head pound harder.

"Checking in for Blaine Anderson," his mother said to the nurse at the front desk. Blaine and his father took a seat and let his mom handle things. She always felt better when she could be in charge of something and Blaine was happy to let her, he wasn't feeling all that great and could stand to sit down.

"Ah, yes. You had an appointment with Dr. Herzog," the nurse said. "She's been pulled into an emergency surgery, so she might be awhile. If you'd like, you're welcome to wait downstairs where we have several dining options, a few coffee shop and even a tea room. I can call you when she is available again?"

Blaine tuned out the conversation as soon as he heard that he was going to be stuck here awhile. Wasn't that how it always went at hospitals? Hurry up and wait. He looked around at what could possibly be his new home for the next few weeks if they agreed to operate. It was a nice facility. It looked clean and well kept. There were a lot of patients here though, at least fifteen different charts lined the nurse's desk and Blaine could see more piled up beside the woman.

Did more patients mean that they had a higher success rate? He prayed so because it was going to take a miracle to save him.

There was joyous laughter coming out of one room, while somebody sobbed hysterically in another. A teenage boy pushed his mother around in a wheelchair. A man was helping his father — a man old enough to be Blaine's grandfather — walk around. That's when it hit Blaine.

All the patients here were old. They were all real adults, not eighteen year old boys that barely had enough life experience to deserve the title. They'd had their chance to live, he didn't belong here. Why did he have to have cancer? He was too young.

His head felt like somebody was slamming it repeatedly into a brick wall. His eyes had started swimming from the pain and the room started to dance around him. He knew he was going to be sick; he always got sick when the pain got like this. He stood up to find a bathroom and his legs gave out.

"Blaine!" his father exclaimed, shooting to his feet just in time to catch Blaine before his head hit the wall. His dad lowered him back into his chair and his mom and the nurse quickly made their way over.

"Are you alright?" his mother asked.

Of course he wasn't alright. What kind of a question was that? He'd just fallen trying to stand up. He was worse than a toddler learning how to walk. It was demeaning. How was he ever supposed to be capable of anything if he couldn't even get up to go to the bathroom on his own?

Blaine nodded, wanting to just say yes and get her to leave him alone. He didn't want a speech from her today. The quick movement of his head caused things to start spinning more severely and soon he was throwing up in the middle of the hallway.

When he was finished getting sick all over the black and white tile, he sat up and looked at his parents pleadingly.

"Can we go home?" he asked, or at least tried to say. To his benefit, at least his tongue had started working again and he could actually talk.

His parents didn't respond, but he could tell they were having a silent argument over his head. He just rolled his eyes.

"Is it your head?" the nurse asked.

Blaine nodded, this time much more slowly and not quite as big. His eyes never left his father. He was silently begging for him to be on Blaine's side. If he could just get his dad to let him leave, he knew it would only be a matter of time before his mother caved, too. The last thing he wanted was to be admitted to the hospital. He knew the drill. They'd hook him up to an IV and keep him for observation and all of his plans of shopping on Michigan Avenue and trying to at least pretend this was a vacation would be out the window.

"It's hard to be in a new place," the nurse said. Her hands went up to cup his face. He wanted to push her away, but she started massaging his head and it actually helped relieve some of the pressure. "A lot of unfamiliar stimuli can be hard for people. You'll be okay. If you'll let me, I can admit you and we can get a doctor to give you something for the pain."

Blaine didn't want to say yes. He didn't want to be in the hospital, on what would hopefully be his last few days of freedom before getting a surgery he so desperately needed. He couldn't deny, however, that he needed some help. He was too overwhelmed and the pills his doctor gave him wouldn't cut it. He needed something more powerful to stop the constant throbbing. He agreed to being admitted and he could hear his mother give a sigh of relief.

His dad helped him to his feet and slowly, because when they tried to go faster he started to gag again, they made their way over to an empty room. The second his head hit the pillow, he closed his eyes. The florescent lights had been blinding him and once somebody closed the curtains and shut off the lights entirely, he could feel the pain begin to subside minutely. It wasn't enough for him to turn away the drugs, but it was enough to stop him from throwing up again while he waited for the doctor to come.

"It'll just be another minute," he nurse said, rubbing at his temple.

True to her word, barely sixty seconds had passed — he'd been counting in his head to help him relax — before somebody was walking into the room. They began speaking to his mother about his medical history, careful to ask about any allergies. He heard the shuffling of paper, which he could only assume to be his mother handing over his medical file. After a couple more minutes of questions, he felt somebody pull up his sleeve and begin the process of putting in an IV.

"He doesn't have a central line?" the doctor asked.

"He's scheduled to get a portacath put in next week before he starts chemo," his mom answered.

Blaine kept his eyes closed, not willing to leave his somewhat relaxing black cave. He didn't remember much after that.

Later, he woke up to the light sound of a game on the TV. The lights were still off and the room was glowing with the soft sunlight streaming through the closed curtains.

"Dad?" Blaine said, his voice hoarse with sleep and whatever drug they'd used to knock him out.

"Hey, Champ."

"I fell asleep?" he asked, unsure of the details. He always got like this on pain medication; he was as much a lightweight with drugs as he was with alcohol.

"A little over an hour ago," his dad explained, turning off the game. "Your mom is talking to a doctor about adjusting your medication. She doesn't think this should still be happening with the pills you're taking."

"Can we go back to the hotel now?" he asked.

"Unfortunately, we're going to be stuck here a little while longer. But the second they give us the all clear we'll be out of here, I promise," his dad said.

"Then can we go to Millennium Park like you said?" he whined. He knew he was being childish, but he couldn't help it.

"Why don't you let me perform my neuro-exam and I'll talk to Dr. Herzog about letting you free for the night," a younger doctor knocked on the doorframe before letting himself in. "I'm Dr. Freedman."

"Just a neuro-exam?" Blaine asked, always skeptical when doctors told him these things. There was always just one more test and only another few minutes that seemed to show up unexpectedly.

"You'll need to get an MRI, but they are pretty backed up downstairs and we wouldn't get you in until late tonight. It's probably going to be less stressful all around if you come back first thing in the morning," the doctor explained.

"Okay," Blaine sat up in the bed, ready for what must have been his hundredth 'routine' check up in the last two weeks.

"I'll just go and grab your mother," his dad said, standing up.

"Don't," Blaine pleaded.

It wasn't that Blaine didn't like having his mom around. In fact, he clung to her whenever he was scared, but neuro-exams weren't scary anymore. In fact, what worried Blaine the most was having to see his mom's face when he didn't pass the exams with flying colors. It was one thing to listen to her cheer him on every time he managed to do something as simple squeeze the doctor's hand. It was a million times worse to have to see the sad look on her face when he failed to do something and he didn't want to deal with that pressure.

His dad looked from the door back to Blaine several times, obviously weighing his options. His mom wouldn't be happy when she found out that he'd had an exam without her and he knew that she would blame his dad for that.

In the end, Blaine's puppy dog eyes won out and his dad sat back down quietly, biting his tongue.

The exam was simple. He started out following a light with his eyes. He listened to different tones on a set of headphones to test his hearing. He answered some basic questions to test his memory. Blaine had always passed these tests with flying colors; the cancer hadn't affected that part of his mind yet.

After those came the tricky tests. He had to try and walk in a straight line across the room, which was hard enough on crutches but he was doing better now that he could use two. He had to balance on one leg and he did marginally better than last week, at least he didn't manage to fall, even if he did have to wave his arms around like an angry goose gone wild just to stay upright. Had his mom been there, she would have told him it was proof the radiation was working.

He raised his hands and tossed a foam block with relative ease but failed to catch it when the doctor gently tossed it his way. He raised his broken leg without a problem but didn't have full mobility in his right leg. He'd already known that his coordination was starting to go, but it was always scary to watch the doctor write in his file every time he so much as stumbled.

The exam didn't last more than twenty minutes and, true to his word, the doctor convinced Dr. Herzog to discharge him for the night. An hour and a half later, armed with a stronger prescription for the pain, his family was walking out of the hospital and into the cool, brisk night.

"Can we go somewhere?" Blaine asked. It was only five o'clock. The sun was just beginning to set and they didn't have to be back at the hospital until six o'clock the next morning.

"Where do you want to go?" his dad asked at the same time his mother started to object.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said. "You should go home and rest. It's been a long day."

"Right," Blaine said, kicking some snow around with his casted leg. It was stupid of him to ask anyway. He knew that she was never going to let him off of the tight leash she had him on. At least not until the cancer was gone, which meant he might die trapped under house arrest. He'd never get the chance to do anything fun again. "Whatever."

"I'm sorry, Blaine," she said, ruffling his hair a bit. "Maybe when you're better we can come back to Chicago and see everything. How does that sound?"

"It's fine, whatever," he said. He hated that she kept doing that. Promising him that they would do things when he got better; what if he never got better? He was going to die with promises to have a life later but never actually get a chance to do anything.

"What's the matter, sweetheart?" she asked, finally taking the time to really look at him.

"It's just that—" he gritted his teeth, unsure how to tell his parents that he just wanted to spend some time together as a family. He'd been nervous all week about this appointment and what it could mean for him. Would it be his saving grace or would it be his downfall? He just wanted to do something that had nothing to do with doctors or hospitals, even if only for a night.

"I really want to go to Navy Pier. We went last year after we won Nationals and it was really fun. I think it'd be nice to get to do that together," he said.

"Navy Pier is outside, you'll catch your death," she chided.

"I've already caught my death," Blaine responded bitterly, with a roll of his eyes. Before waiting for her to deny his request again, he began making his way back to the hotel. He couldn't believe she wasn't allowing him this one thing. It was such a simple request.

"What's this really about?" his dad asked, hurrying to catch up to him. Blaine was getting to be pretty fast on his crutches.

"It's the last chance I'll probably ever get to be a kid," Blaine said, starting to tear up. "And you guys keep telling me to be positive, but it's pretty hard to be positive when I keep getting told that I'm dying. Or when I can't even form words anymore and my head is pounding like it's being hit with a sledgehammer. Everyone in there is so old. They've all lived their lives and gotten the chance to do all these things before they got cancer and I just want to get to live my life while I still feel up to it. I want to do some of the stuff we never got to do together."

"We love you," his dad said, giving him a guilty look. "You know that it was never about not loving you, right?"

"I know that," Blaine said, feeling bad for bringing it up. "You guys had Cooper to worry about and we were just so far apart in age that it was hard."

Blaine always felt horrible for causing his parents any guilt. They weren't bad parents; they just weren't always the most attentive. Blaine was never a fussy baby. He didn't cry a lot. He never demanded much attention, which was good. Cooper always needed so much of it. When Blaine was a baby it was all about shuffling everyone's schedules around to get Cooper to voice lessons, acting classes, auditions, and dance classes. Then when Cooper finally got old enough to drive, his parents had broken curfews, underage drinking and girls sneaking into the house to deal with. They didn't ever mean to neglect Blaine. Blaine just didn't need them as much, he wasn't getting into trouble.

Once Cooper had left for college, Blaine was already accustomed to taking care of himself. He didn't need his parents anymore. Then his mother started writing, and once she got published she was hardly ever home. It wasn't that they didn't love Blaine; he just got forgotten a lot. They trusted him on his own; he knew it was a sign that they respected him enough to leave him to his own devices.

It was just that sometimes he really wished he had been able to enjoy his childhood. He wished his parents had taken him to Disney World. That his mother had chaperoned school field trips or his dad had coached little league. His parents weren't to blame for that. If anything, Blaine only helped push them away further. He was the one that came out to his parents and wrote them off before giving them time to process the fact that he was gay. He was the one that went running to Dalton when the bullying got bad and found every excuse imaginable to not come home on the weekends.

Now he just wanted to fix it. He wanted a chance to really get to know his parents.

"I'll call a cab," his mother said with a sad smile. "But we can't stay too long; you still need your rest."

It felt like the smallest victory in the grand scheme of things, but to Blaine it meant everything. The chance that maybe it wasn't too late to really be a family made him feel that maybe things did happen for a reason. Kurt would kill him if he knew he was thinking that and his mother would start begging him to go to church again, so he kept that realization to himself.

Sunday afternoon, Blaine's last day in Chicago, he found himself sitting in Dr. Herzog's office, waiting for her to come back with the results from all the tests they'd ran this morning. She was supposed to be coming back to talk to them about treatment options and let them know if she'd be able to operate or not. His mother kept smiling at him like she knew this nightmare was about to be over, but Blaine knew the truth.

He'd already had his hope crushed.

The interns weren't very subtle here. They had been practically fighting to make him comfortable when he'd first arrived this morning, each trying to win over his affections. They'd snuck him candy as they wheeled him to his tests, they helped him break into the Wi-Fi network so he could FaceTime Sam on his phone. Ever since he'd gotten back from his MRI over an hour ago, they'd been avoiding him like the plague, none of them able to even look him in the eyes.

He'd watched Grey's Anatomy religiously for years. He knew that they were fighting over him because they all wanted to scrub in on his surgery. Now they'd all disappeared which could only mean that he wasn't going to have any surgery.

He wasn't going to get the surgery he needed to save his life.

He wasn't even sure why he was still here. He knew he was only going to hear bad news about inoperable tumors and doing what they could to make him more comfortable. What did that even matter? Did they really think there was anything they could do to make him comfortable with the idea of dying?

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Well, what good did that do when no amount of kicking and screaming was going to fix the unfixable? Didn't there come a time when fighting just became pointless? At what point was it okay for him to throw in the towel, because right now felt like a pretty great time.

The door to the office opened, echoing loudly into the room like only a hospital door was capable of doing. His father gave him a comforting squeeze on the shoulder as Dr. Herzog made her way into the room and sat behind her desk. The welcoming smile she wore when they'd first met was gone, replaced with a cold, distant look. He wondered how often she reported bad news to patients and their families and if it made her cold.

"We've gotten the lab results back for Blaine," she said, scanning his file, not meeting his eyes.

There was no way that she didn't already know what the results said. Blaine had been able to read it on all of the staff's faces since he'd gotten back from his testing. She was avoiding looking at him. There wasn't another good explanation.

"We've determined that the tumor is inoperable—" she started to explain, saying the words Blaine had dreaded hearing, but his mother cut her off before she could continue.

"What? That's impossible! This is one of the best hospitals in the country!"

One of the best hospitals in the country and they still couldn't help him. Blaine tried to wrap his mind around those words, really forced himself to make sense of them. He was drowning and nobody around him knew CPR. They could barely swim themselves. No amount of kicking and flailing was going to get him to the surface; he wasn't going to find any air.

Blaine didn't have to go quietly into the night like the poem suggested. He could kick and scream and fight all he wanted, but he would be leaving this world one way or another. He should just let it happen, wasn't there more dignity in that?

"There isn't a lot we can do with where the tumor is located. If we tried to remove it, it would kill Blaine."

"You don't have to remove it all, though," his dad said, his voice sounded wet and Blaine didn't know if he could handle it if his dad started to cry. He himself was already choking on the hopeless feeling that felt like a noose around his neck.

"We can't remove any of it, not without risking your son's health," she explained patiently.

"So you're going to let my son die because you're too scared to perform a surgery that might kill him, does that make any sense to you?" his mother said, starting to yell.

"Stop," he said, quivering.

Despite how quiet he had been, the whole room had managed to hear him and turned to look at him.

"Blaine—" his mother started but he held her off with the wave of his hand.

"Thank you, for your time," he addressed Dr. Herzog, speaking slowly for fear that he was going to break down and start crying. "We have a plane to catch."

"Sweetheart—"

"We have a plane to catch," he repeated himself, his voice commanding and leaving no room for argument. "We're going home," he said, grabbing his crutches. He left the room with barely a glance back and he was surprised with how quickly both of his parents followed after him.

He knew that leaving so abruptly was rude and ungrateful but he couldn't listen to the doctor talk about aggressive treatments and prolonged time. He didn't need to hear it again when it would only upset everyone involved. He hadn't told anybody, outside of Kurt and even then he'd been reluctant to say it aloud— but he'd invested so much hope in the chance that this doctor would fix all of his problems. He'd prayed for some magic solution to all of this but it wasn't something that was going to be argued away like his parents were used to. No amount of money could stop the tumor from killing him. All the positive energy in the world would do nothing to cure him.

He was dying and it was time he got used to the idea.

As they waited for the elevator to reach the first floor, Blaine could see his parents trying to hide their tears. His mother was wearing a false smile full of bitterness, but she was determined to stay positive for his sake. He didn't know why she didn't just give it up; it clearly wasn't doing them any good.

"There's another doctor at Johns Hopkins," his dad said, pulling out his phone. "They say he can work miracles."

"Book it," his mother said, squeezing Blaine's upper arm tightly. He could tell that she wanted to hold his hand but it was hard for him to do that without dropping his crutches. The elevator doors opened and she was forced to let go.

Blaine tried to ignore the sharp intake of air as he pulled away from her and started towards the main doors. He didn't want to know what she was thinking. As hard as this was going to be for Blaine, it was going to be just as hard on his parents.

What was the saying? Parents shouldn't have to bury their children?

His vision swam as he held back his cries. He just kept pushing ahead, unable to stop. Once he stopped he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to start again. The road ahead was dark. It was overwhelming and filled with terror and dread. But at least it was a road and it hadn't run out yet—

As the automatic doors slid open, the cool air hit his body and sent a shiver down his spine. He took a deep breath in, ignoring how the air froze his throat. It was better than breathing in the stifling hospital air that always held a hint of death and despair. He started walking, but when he reached Michigan Avenue again, he realized the last place he wanted to be was back at the hotel, stuck in another room that would only make him feel claustrophobic. The world was closing in on him and he didn't know how to push it away.

He took a left instead of a right and ignored his parents' worried conversation behind him. They didn't know how to help him and that was just perfect because he didn't know how to help himself either. He passed shop after shop but couldn't be bothered to even look inside the places he would have once begged to enter. What did a new sweater or jacket matter in the face of death? What would he do with the latest iPhone? It was all so completely pointless. He pushed through the crowds, breathing in heavily, feeling like he was being stabbed repeatedly in the chest. All of these people were walking about like it was just a normal Sunday. It wasn't right. Couldn't they see how different everything now was?

"Blaine, this is the Tribune Tower, do you want to look around?" his dad asked while his mom pleaded with him to slow down.

He ignored them and made his way across the bridge, unsure of what he was looking for but knowing he hadn't found it yet. He couldn't stop, not while his skin was still crawling and his stomach was twisting itself into a knot.

"Why don't we get something to eat, some of these restaurants look nice," his dad commented.

"I don't want to eat!" he yelled, not bothering to even turn around and see what was sure to be the stricken faces of his parents.

Eventually, they came across what appeared to be a park and without rhyme or reason, Blaine abruptly turned and made his way through the gardens, watching as laughing children ran past, being chased by frazzled parents. He wondered if those parents had any idea of how fragile their children's lives where. He longed for the ignorance of those kids, running around as if nothing bad could ever happen to them.

That had been him. This past summer he'd run around with his friends as reckless as any teenager, never thinking that time was so limited.

He veered off the path they'd been taking and cut over, needing to get away from the kids that just reminded him of everything he was trying to run away from. His parents had fallen silent by this point and he didn't know what to make of that. His mom should have been pestering him about getting inside before he froze to death. His dad should have been reminding them that their plane was going to leave later that night and they still needed to get their things from the hotel. Neither of them said a word though as Blaine stumbled across one of the strangest sculptures he'd ever seen.

There was a giant bean shaped mirror in the middle of the plaza, reflecting the sunset and skyline off of its walls.

"It's called Cloud Gate, but most of the locals just call it the Bean," his dad said into his ear, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's weird," Blaine commented, though all three of them were captivated by it, watching the sun set slowly until they had been standing there long enough to only see the reflection of the city lights on the surface.

"It's actually really beautiful in a different kind of way," his mother commented after what must have been almost an hour of silence if the now darkened city was any indication. When they'd left the hospital, it had still been light outside.

"Yeah, it's cool," Blaine commented, still sniffling a bit but for the most part he'd come back to himself.

"Are you guys hungry? We've probably got enough time for a quick dinner before we have to get to the airport," his dad asked.

"I don't want to have the treatment," he said, his eyes not leaving the reflection of the three of them. It was almost hypnotic.

"I know it's hard, but it's going to help you," his mom said.

"It's not," he said calmly, sure about his feelings in a way he hadn't been since the diagnosis.

That was how he knew he was making the right decision. Hope had always been fizzling under the surface and was clouding his judgment making him unsure and tentative in his decisions. Now he knew for certain how he wanted to deal with this. He didn't want to hide behind chemo and radiation. He didn't want to live in fear of death. He wanted to face it head on. He wanted to live every moment that he had left and when death came, he wanted to open it with welcome arms without a hint of regret.

Hadn't Dumbledore taught him that death was just the next great adventure? Wasn't that the entire message of the Deathly Hallows book that he'd read every year like clockwork — that death should be greeted as an old friend knowing that if you lead a life filled with love that you didn't have anything to fear?

"The treatment is going to give you more time," his dad tried to persuade him.

"If we have more time, Sweetheart, we can find somebody that's willing to operate."

"We're not going to, can't you see that?" he asked. "We need to start accepting that this is our life now. I have cancer and that's not going away."

"You have to let us try," his dad argued.

"I love you both, and I would do a lot for more time with you guys because there's never going to be enough. But that's just the point; I want to spend my time with you and Cooper and my friends, not in a hospital."

"If time's what you want—"

"Time is what I want," Blaine said. "I'm just asking for you to give that to me. Let me live my time out how I chose."

"We can't just give up!" his mom protested and he could hear the desperation in her voice. The fear. That wasn't how he wanted to live out his life.

"Exactly," he replied calmly, placing a soothing hand on her shoulder. "I can't just give up the time I have left to spend it with doctors and nurses I barely know. I want to live."

"There's somebody out there that can help you," his dad said. "I have a list of at least fifteen doctors that are willing to try and help you."

"The only people that are going to be able to help me come to terms with death don't work in a hospital."

"You aren't dying!" his mom cried.

"You can't ask us to just stop," his dad said, looking at Blaine like he'd lost his mind.

"I'm not asking. I'm telling," he said, feeling guilty for it but knowing that this was what he had to do for his own piece of mind. In the long run, it would be better for everyone this way. They'd see. "I'm eighteen. You can't make me do anything and I'm telling you— I hope that you'll understand but if you don't, I'm still going to make this decision."

"We should think about this some more," his dad said and immediately tried to get them to leave and find a restaurant to eat at. Blaine was clearly hungry and was too tired to make these kind of decisions right now.

"I don't need to think about it. I want you to call the hospital and cancel my radiation sessions. I'm not going back."

"You're not thinking straight!" his dad said, getting angry and desperate but Blaine couldn't be angry at him. He understood how his dad felt, but there wasn't anything he could do to fix it. Blaine would still be dying in the end, no matter what treatment he had or doctor he saw.

"There has to be some compromise here," his mom said.

Blaine just looked at her pitifully, there wasn't.

"What's the plan?" she pushed him.

"I don't know. Be at home for awhile. Give my friends time to say goodbye. Go to France with Kurt, we've always wanted to see it. Finally take that family trip to Puerto Princesa? I'd like to do something with just Cooper."

"Okay," his mom agreed surprising both Blaine and his dad.

"Neile!" his dad protested.

"Okay?" Blaine whispered, barely believing it. Of anybody, his mom had been the last person he'd expected to agree to his decision.

"Okay, your father and I will make sure you get to do all of those things. We'll pay for your ticket to France and we'll book a family trip back to the Philippines," she said and Blaine's heart started to fill with hope that he'd actually get his wish. His voice was being heard.

"What are you doing?" his dad asked.

"Compromising. We'll do these things Blaine, but you have to do something for us," she said.

"What?"

"Give us time," she said with a pointed look.

"But I don't—" he'd been about to remind her that he didn't have time to give, but she cut him off.

"You have a good six months at least. Give us three of those and after that, if you still want to stop treatment, you can do whatever you'd like with the rest of your time. We'll pay for anything you decide you want to do."

"I'll be sick by then, too sick to do anything," he argued.

"Not if you get treatment for the first three months and let us take you to any doctor we think might help without complaint."

Blaine knew there were probably a million reasons to deny her request, the first of which was that they were just postponing the inevitable, but in the end he agreed. If three months was what his parents needed to know that they'd tried their best. If that would give them the peace of mind to let him go— if it would alleviate any bit of their guilt and anguish, then he didn't really have a choice.


	8. Chapter 7

"Get up!" Sam came barging into Blaine's bedroom around lunchtime, waking him up from the nap he'd just fallen into.

"What?" he groaned, sitting up in bed and rubbing his eyes.

He was exhausted from the combination of starting the special chemotherapy pills (the ones that were supposed to be able cross the body to brain barrier the doctors kept bringing up every time his mother would show up with new research studies), surviving thirteen radiation sessions without sprouting a third arm and having a portacath put in yesterday. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to get through two and a half more months of this if he was already made immobile by the treatments.

"How did you get in here?" he asked, rubbing his temples and pleading for the pounding headache to go away.

He'd thought his parents were gone for a few hours. His dad was supposed to be working today and his mother was meeting with the family lawyer to see what could be done about the insurance company refusing to cover the experimental chemo pills. Cooper was back in LA for a few days, packing up his stuff to move back home.

"Coop gave me a key last week and told me to make myself at home whenever I wanted," Sam said with a wink.

"Because you were having such a problem with doing that before," Blaine replied with a roll of his eyes, instantly regretting it. He felt like he was going to be sick, but he didn't have the energy to make it to the bathroom.

"Shut up and get your lazy ass up. I need you dressed. I'm in a hurry," Sam said, throwing open his closet. He began tossing clothes at him. Blaine missed catching any of them, but he decided to attribute that to Sam's poor aim rather than his lack of coordination. It was easier that way.

"What is this about?" he asked, crawling out of bed slowly to start changing. Despite feeling like he just came out of a cage fight with every last one of the Avengers, he knew that Sam wouldn't be dragging him out of bed if it wasn't important.

He took his time. Dressing was a tedious task for him, trying to work around his broken leg and increasingly poor balance skills. As the weeks went on he was getting more accustomed to working around all of his new shortcomings, but that didn't make it any less frustrating.

"Unique got suspended today."

"What? Why?" he asked. The sinking feeling in his gut told him that he already know the answer.

"She wore a pair of heels to school after Figgins told her she couldn't wear a dress yesterday, so he suspended her," Sam said, digging into Blaine's bow-tie drawer to find a suitable match. Blaine didn't have the heart to tell him that he wouldn't be able to wear one because he currently was incapable of tying one anymore. He'd been relying on Kurt and his mother to do that for him, as much as he hated the thought of anybody else helping him get dressed. He wasn't about to ask Sam. Sam had to have Blaine help him put on every tie he'd had to wear for Glee club this whole year.

"He can't do that!" he protested, feeling the rage start to build in his chest slowly. As his heart started to pound harder in outrage, the ache in his muscles and clawing at his brain started to dwindle.

"I know," Sam said, perching himself on the edge of Blaine's desk as he waited for him to finish getting ready.

"Well, what are we going to do?"

"I don't know, Mr. President, but somebody that convinced the entire school to show up in lycra and spandex can probably figure it out."

Blaine finished tucking in his shirt, trying not to blush as Sam watched him fumble while buckling his belt.

"How you doin'?" Sam said in a perfect imitation of Joey Tribbiani. "Want me to get that for you?"

"I really, really don't," Blaine said as politely as he could manage.

"Afraid you'll get to turned on?"

"Why am I friends with you?" he grumbled. He sat back down on his bed and started pulling on his socks, pointing over to his shoes so that Sam would bring them to him.

"Because I always let you use my Chapstick and listen to you cry about boys without getting annoyed," Sam said, handing him his shoes.

"Bring me my computer, too," he said, ignoring him. "I want to see if what Figgins is doing is even legal."

"Blaine," Sam said, annoyed and clapping his hands. "No time. We've gotta go."

"Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"Relax, Milhouse, it's lunch. I've got another twenty-five minutes before I need to be back for sixth period, now can we go? I don't want Ms. Green to yell at me again."

"Again?"

"I was late for class yesterday," Sam said with a hint of a blush that made Blaine curious. He was missing all of the good gossip now that he wasn't at school anymore. The girls were texting him some of it, but he knew he wasn't getting half of what was happening with everyone.

He raised his eyebrows in question until Sam continued. "Brittany asked me out."

"I thought your epic Hansel and Gretel serenade plan failed?"

"Only in the temporary sense," Sam said with a smile. Blaine was happy to see that things were working out for somebody, at least. "She came around in the end."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, feeling slightly hurt that Sam wouldn't have told him immediately. He knew that it was a strain on his friends to try and keep him informed when he couldn't see them every day like they used to, but it didn't make him feel any better about the disconnect growing between them.

"I was a little busy trying to figure out what to do now that Glee is over. Things have gotten kind of weird. I'm telling you now."

He grabbed his crutches and they made their way out of the house, stopping in the kitchen quickly so Sam could grab Blaine's meds and some Gatorade. Blaine was going to need all the strength he could get if he was going to even attempt to look human while talking to Figgins.

"About that, Tina said she joined the Cheerios? And I haven't even heard anything from Sugar, she hasn't returned any of my texts—"

"Yeah, nobody's really heard from her. There's a rumor going around that her family got put into witness protection because of her dad's mob ties but I'm like 95% sure that's not true and she's just vacationing somewhere."

They climbed into the beater car Sam bought at the beginning of the year - the one that was constantly breaking down on the side of the road. Blaine would have loved to drive them, if only so that they could guarantee they actually arrived at school, but he'd been banned from driving.

"I feel like I missed everything," he said, moving to play with the radio while Sam fiddled with the heat, trying to get it to work. "I still can't believe that you guys lost Sectionals. I feel so guilty."

"It wasn't your fault Marley fainted, dude."

"It's still pretty lousy that none of us realized what was going on with her, I mean we all saw her stressing out about her weight during rehearsals for the musical," he said.

"Blaine, seriously, just stop," Sam said. "None of us realized you had brain cancer. If you want to start playing the guilt game, we'll bury you."

"Sam—"

Blaine's stomach twisted into a knot at the thought of his friends blaming themselves for his cancer. It wasn't something any of them could have foreseen. They were just kids. Of course they never thought anything was seriously wrong with their friend. Up until a month ago, Blaine had pretty much considered himself invincible. He couldn't blame any of them for thinking the same thing.

"No, just stop. Okay?" Sam cut him off, a bit harshly. "Let's just focus on Unique."

"Right, yeah," he said, not forgetting about it, but instead, filing it away to talk about later. They had a more pressing matter to attend to. "If we're going to talk to Figgins, you're going to miss Ms. Green's class."

"Yes, but if I get detention while rallying for social justice with you, I can better explain it to my parents and Burt than if I got another detention for losing track of time with my girlfriend."

"You should have told them you were with me. I would have covered for you and your parents adore me," he said with a smug grin.

"My parents met you once for like ten minutes. I still don't understand how they like you better than me."

"It's my charm, obviously."

"And your modesty," Sam said with a playful smack.

"Cooper gave you keys to the house and my mom's been letting you sleep over long before they ever let Kurt, you don't get to complain."

"Principal Figgins?" Blaine knocked on his office door, Sam right by his side. They'd both agreed to try and talk to him rationally before they planned anything dramatic.

"Blaine Anderson! It's good to see you back at school," Figgins said. "Donna was just talking about how much she missed your Wednesday serenades to the staff. I hope you're doing better?"

"Oh, thank you. I'm doing alright," he said with a faint blush while Sam snickered beside him. "Sam and I were actually looking to talk to you for a minute as Senior Class President and Vice-President."

"Take a seat, although if this is about getting metal silverware in the cafeteria, I've already put it into the spring budget."

"No, it's not about that. Thank you, though. That was nice of you. It's actually about Unique," he said, doing his best not to fidget in his seat even though he felt incredibly nervous. He always hated standing up to authority figures, even when he knew it was the right thing to do.

Figgins looked at the two of them confused, clearly unsure of what they were talking about, which was a completely different problem that he would have to address later. Students deserved the right to be called what they wanted and be recognized by their real names, even if it wasn't their given name.

"Wade Adams?" Blaine clarified, trying to keep the bite out of his voice. He'd learned long ago that kindness was the best currency. "The student you expelled earlier today."

"You know boys, disciplinary matters aren't things that I generally discuss with the student council."

"With all due respect, sir, if you're starting to restrict student's rights to express themselves freely—" something that's a constitutional right — it concerns me. I made a pledge to the student body that I was going to stand up for their rights," he said.

Sam was adamantly nodding his head beside him but remained quiet. No matter how kind and giving Sam was or how smart he was when it came to people, nobody really took him seriously because of his low test scores. Blaine hated it, but there wasn't much they could do about it. They'd figured out long ago that Figgins mostly just humored Sam for Blaine. If they wanted to get anything serious done, it was best that Sam stayed quiet.

God, this school was so messed up. Blaine was angry that he'd been taken out of classes just as he was starting to actually make a change. There was so much good he wanted to do but wouldn't be able to.

"Mr. Anderson, I hate to inform you of this, but constitutional rights out there in the real world aren't the same in a classroom setting," Figgins argued which only caused Blaine to roll his eyes. He wasn't going to let this slide. The school was being openly prejudiced against Unique because they were transphobic and he wasn't going to let them brush it off with whatever politics they were using to justify their behavior.

"My job as principal is to make a safe environment for children that best helps everybody learn," Figgins continued. "Mr. Adams violated the dress code repeatedly and has been a distraction for teachers and other students. When I asked him to change, he refused. I had to suspend him on the grounds of insubordination."

"You suspended her because of insubordination or because you were offended by her appearance?"

"The school board has rules," Figgins said, clearly flustered. "I would have thought that you, as Senior Class President could respect that."

"You thought that as a gay man who fights for Equal Rights that I was going to be comfortable with the school's blatant prejudice?" he asked, breathing in deeply to keep from shouting. There were tears building in the back of his eyes and he was keeping them at bay. He couldn't cry in front of Figgins, it wouldn't help him win this argument if he couldn't be taken seriously. However, he couldn't help but get upset at the way this was getting brushed off. When Puck showed up to school last year in a dress and heels, Figgins had laughed. There'd been no threat of suspension or even so much as a verbal warning.

"The dress code is the same for all students."

"Oh, I apologize then," he said, no longer able to hide the sarcasm in his voice. "I didn't realize you were also going to suspend all the girls wearing dresses or heels today. I misunderstood. Would you like me to tell anyone dressing in stereotypically feminine attire that you'd like to see them in your office?"

"The Cheerios skirts don't even come to mid-thigh, I'm pretty sure that's a dress code violation, too. I don't see them getting in trouble," Sam chipped in.

"Yes, thank you, Sam. I think that if you're going to suspend Unique then you really need to be suspending most of the girls at school today," Blaine said defiantly.

"The girls in dresses aren't breaking any rules!" Figgins said, finally losing his cool.

"With all due respect, sir, I think you're seriously misunderstanding the situation here. Unique isn't a boy pretending to be a girl for fun. She's a girl who happens to be trapped in a man's body. It's confusing for and can cause extreme dysphoria. It's hardly fun for her. The least this school can do is give her a safe place to try and be the person she was meant to be. She isn't asking you to change the dress code. She's asking you to stop treating her like a man. If other girls are allowed to wear dresses then she isn't breaking any rules!"

"That's not the way the school board or any of the parents see it. There have been complaints. He's putting himself in a dangerous situation by dressing like that. You know what happened to Kurt Hummel two years ago—"

"Don't," Blaine cut him off sharply. He wasn't going to use the way the school handled Kurt's constant harassment to somehow justify their abuse of another student.

"Mr. Hummel sued the school because he was bullied so much," Figgins said, throwing his hands up in the air. "We are simply trying to stop bullying, which is something you've been pushing for. At the beginning of the year you were in here demanding the school protect students against the kind of harassment Mr. Adams has been getting from his classmates."

"Her! Her classmates!" Blaine snapped back, his blood boiling. He didn't care if he got in trouble for yelling at Figgins. He wasn't going to be graduating at this rate anyway, but he couldn't stand by and let something like this go. The school systems have failed both Blaine and Kurt in the past but he would be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to protect Unique and other kids.

"He's not changing his mind, we should just go," Sam said, sounding as disgusted as Blaine felt.

He was right, Figgins wasn't going to change his mind with a simple conversation. It was going to take more than that. It was a rare occurrence that Blaine was ever openly defiant, but the spark had been lit and he wasn't letting this go.

"Just to be clear — are you telling me that from now on anyone with a penis that shows up in a dress will get suspended?" he asked, standing up and leaning on his crutches, trying his best not to look as weak as he was starting to feel. It had taken all of his power to come to school today and have this conversation. He wasn't going to be able to stand for long, but he was determined to be strong for a little bit longer. If only for Unique's sake.

"No heels or lipstick either," Figgins nodded his head. "It's simply for everyone's protection."

"Okay," he said with a bitter laugh, refusing to snap back with the long list of ways that Figgins was a hypocrite.

"And especially none of those padded brassieres."

"And you won't change your mind?" Blaine asked, giving him one last chance before he started planning ways to burn this building to the ground.

"My hands are tied here," Figgins said, just like he'd said to countless other kids that had come before.

How convenient when the jocks and cheerleaders needed something, they'd move mountains to make it happen. Sue's Cheerios had never been suspended regardless of the deplorable behavior they'd been known to show. There was always money in the budget to buy ice cream for the whole school whenever the football team won a game. Figgins had actually lifted the ban on cellphones in the classroom and all it had taken was Blaine showing up with some bullshit comment on how technology was the future. Blaine had simply wanted to be able to text Kurt in class and it had taken less than five minutes to convince his principal to allow him to use his phone during school.

How easy it was for Figgins to bend the rules when it was convenient for him. Yet when the education and wellbeing of one of their students was seriously at risk, he suddenly had no power at school. It was ludicrous.

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said.

Blaine stormed out as angrily as one could with crutches. He'd like to think that Rachel Berry would have been proud of him. Sam followed after him, slamming the door behind them in the process as loudly as they could get away with without seriously getting into trouble.

"What do we do now?" Sam asked. He could practically feel the rage coming off of Sam and he was sure he wasn't in any better state.

"We prove a point," he said.

Despite the fact that he felt like he was going to faint from all the energy he'd exerted today, he was intent on getting Unique back in school and wearing whatever she wanted to wear. Screw what Figgins had to say about safety. The school shouldn't punish the victims just because they were too lazy to deal with the assholes that couldn't see past their hate.

"How do we do that?"

"Well I, for one, would like to see Figgins try and suspend the entire school," he said. "If we get the everyone to show up in dresses, they'll have to do something."

The bell rang for the next period and students started to fill the hallway. They were forced to move to the side as people pushed them out of the way in their hurry to get to their next class. As bodies moved by in a rush of colors, the sudden noise hit him like a ton of bricks. It was too loud. Was it normally that loud during passing periods?

"Sam," he called out.

The room was starting to spin now that the adrenaline had left his body and real life started to catch back up with him. With the radiation treatment he'd had that morning and the chemo pills he had to take twice a day, he was starting to crash. He needed to lie down.

"Yeah?"

"Sam," he said a little bit more harshly this time until he finally turned and looked at Blaine. He wasn't sure how bad he looked, but it must have been pretty bad because Sam's arms were instantly reaching for him.

"Okay, yeah, okay."

Blaine dropped his crutches to the ground, ignoring the glare Jacob Ben Israel sent him when they almost hit him in the face.

"Leave it," Sam said to him, waving the other boy away. He tugged Blaine closer, and he practically collapsed into his arms.

"You're okay," Sam said, holding up all of his weight as he let his head fall onto his shoulder. It was too much work to try and hold it up on his own.

"Is it your head? Your stomach?"

"Everything," he cried, knowing how pathetic he sounded but he couldn't help it.

"You're not going to have a seizure are you?" Sam asked sounding panicked. Blaine wished that he could say that he would be fine and that Sam didn't have to worry, but he knew he couldn't make a promise like that right now.

"I mean your mom showed me what to do and I can totally handle it, don't worry. But I really don't want to. You don't need me to call the doctor do you?"

"It's too bright." He squeezed his eyes closed tight, knowing that it helped get him in a dark place when he felt like this, but he could barely move, let alone get somewhere where the cheap fluorescent lights weren't blaring in his eyes and kids weren't going past in a blur of nausea inducing colors.

Sam hugged him tight to his body and used his sleeve to block out the light as best as he could. It wasn't perfect, but it was certainly an improvement. The strong arms around him helped as well. At least he felt safe. In the crowd of people, he knew that there was somebody there to make sure he was alright. Sam wouldn't let anything bad happen to him and that thought was keeping a full blown panic attack at bay.

"Are you two dating now?" a voice snickered from behind him. He couldn't place it but assumed it was one of the sophomore jocks that still felt like they could get away with harassing them despite the fact that most of the juniors and seniors had dropped that game last year after their Nationals win.

"Fuck you," Sam said.

"Relax, Evans. I was just kidding. Is he alright?"

"You already know the answer to that, stop being a dipshit," Sam said.

He felt a rush of shame go through him that the entire school knew that he was sick, but he had enough problems at the moment so he filed it away to worry about later.

"What do you need?" Sam asked, a lot closer to his ear then he was used to his friend being.

He was vaguely aware of how intimate the two of them probably looked to everyone passing by. He didn't understand how Sam could be so comfortable around him in public like this. Kurt certainly never touched him like this when they were at school.

"Blaine, stay with me," Sam said. "What do you need?"

"I need to sit down for a few minutes," he said, breathing in through gritted teeth as he tried to push the pain away. Mind over matter, isn't that what his mom always said?

"Jake!" Sam called out loudly into his ear, apologizing quickly when he felt Blaine flinch.

"What happened?" he heard his friend ask but he didn't lift his head to look at him.

"Can you just help me get him somewhere?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, sure." Jake said, pulling Blaine's arm until it was around his shoulder.

"No, it's okay," he said, shaking his head and pulling his arm back. "I'm fine."

It's wasn't the whole truth, but as the movement in the hallways started to slow down and Blaine continued to breathe deeply, he was starting to feel better. While he was still seeing two of things, the world had stopped tilting around so violently.

Besides, he wanted to be strong for his friends. He'd promised himself that he would do his best not to show weakness. Not to let his cancer touch them. A fabulous job he was doing with that.

"Blaine," Jake started to argue but he cut him off before he could start talking about how horrible Blaine probably looked.

"It's starting to pass. I just— can you?" he pointed down at his crutches which had been kicked far enough away that he couldn't reach them. Thankfully they were still in one piece. He really should have taken better care of them.

"We should get you home," Sam said as Jake handed Blaine his crutches.

"I'm fine. I just need to sit down for a while," he argued. "Can you guys help me get to the choir room?"

"Uh, Coach Sue's kind of taken over the choir room," Jake said.

"I don't really give a damn about what Sue Sylvester's done. Take me to the choir room and then get the rest of Glee together. We've got work to do," he said, feeling the rage from earlier start to build up again. It was good. The rage gave him a shot of adrenaline that helped him ignore the symptoms.

"Well, okay," Jake said looking impressed.

"What?" he sneered.

"Nothing, it's just that— this is the Blaine Anderson everyone's been talking about. With everything that's been going on, I never really got to see you in action," Jake said.

"What's the plan?" Sam asked, his eyes were suspiciously wet, but Blaine ignored it.

He knew that he'd just freaked Sam out a few minutes ago and he didn't know how to apologize for it. He knew that Sam would cut him off before he could even say, 'I'm sorry,' but he could only imagine how terrifying it was to have your best friend fall to pieces right in front of your eyes and not have an adult to turn to for help. He'd have to find a way to make it up to him later.

"I told you, we're going to get the whole school to show up in dresses tomorrow," he said, ignoring the doubtful looks that crossed both of the boys faces. "I'd love to see Figgins try and suspend the entire school. Parents won't allow that and even if they do, I'm sure the local news would have a field day with the fact that the school expelled an honors student with cancer."

"You think that you can get people to show up to school in dresses?" Jake said. "This isn't Dalton or whatever magical land that you came from. It's McKinley."

"Clearly you've never seen Blaine's persuasive, puppy-dog eyes," Sam said. "He convinced your brother to attend a Taylor Swift concert with him last year when Kurt got sick and everyone else was busy. Noah Puckerman sat through three hours of Taylor Swift without complaining."

"Listen, this isn't a gay man showing up to school in drag and trying to convince everyone else to do it, too," he argued. "A student's right to wear whatever they want and to express themselves freely is being threatened and people will care about that once I remind them of how this isn't only about Unique, but that it's their own liberties at stake as well."

"Well, somebody's feeling better," Sam commented, slowly starting to walk them in the direction of the choir room.

"Not really, but I'm not going home until we've fixed this," he said, putting his foot down and daring either of them to challenge him.

"Fight the power, I like your style," Jake said.

"Well good, because I'm going to need you to get the sophomore boys on board. They won't listen to me no matter how persuasive I can be," he said.

"You know that's a suicide mission, right?"

"Your brother would have done it," Sam said, crossing his arms and challenging him.

When Jake barely blinked, Blaine added, "Unique is Marley's best friend. She's one of Marley's only friends here. Do you really think she wants to go through school without her, especially given everything that she's going through?"

"What do you suppose I do when they say no?" Jake asked, but he could tell he'd already given in. Jake had a soft spot for Marley and they all knew it even if they weren't technically together at the moment.

"As president, it's probably best I don't know about any deals you have to broker to make this happen," he said solemnly, patting Jake on the shoulder.

As Jake rolled his eyes and made his way slowly down the hallway, presumably off to start rallying some troops, Blaine sent Sam a triumphant smirk.

"I swear to God if you ever turn to the dark side, we're all screwed," Sam said with a roll of his eyes.

That night, once Blaine had finally made it home and sat through a good half hour of his mom checking him over like going to school for a few hours would have made his tumor grow, he called Kurt.

"Hey," Kurt answered after a few rings, sounding a bit more somber than usual and missing the usual Cutie on the end of his greeting.

"Hey," he said, falling back into bed, brushing off his initial concern. He was probably just imagining things. It had been a long day. "What have you been up to?"

"Just working on a column for Isabelle."

"What's it about?" he pressed when Kurt didn't immediately begin gushing about it like he usually would.

"Nothing special," Kurt responded, sounding distracted. Blaine had been brushed off like this before, but not since Kurt had come back from New York.

"I'm not sure anything related to Vogue can be categorized as 'nothing special,'" he teased, but there was an obvious tension between them and Blaine didn't understand where it had come from.

"I'm supposed to find affordable alternatives for all the looks on our best dressed list this week but I'm having trouble finding a suitable match for this Rodarte dress. The cheapest alternative I've found is still about a grand."

"You'll figure it out, you're good at that stuff," he said, encouragingly. He hoped that if he sounded interested enough that Kurt would start to talk more, but it didn't happen and they fell into silence.

"Are you missing New York?" he asked, wondering if that was where all of this was coming from. If Kurt were in New York he could probably run out to some vintage shop and find all the items he'd need for his column in no time.

"Tina posted a video of you at Glee today," Kurt said, completely ignoring Blaine's question.

"Yeah?"

Kurt didn't respond and Blaine sighed. He had no idea what Kurt was trying to get at or why he was suddenly acting so cold. Just last night he'd followed Blaine home after the surgery to put his portacath in and spent the night. The conversation had flowed effortlessly. They'd cuddled and even messed around a bit before Blaine was too tired to stay awake. There hadn't been any problems between them. Why would a video Tina posted of him change all of that?

Because now he's been reminded that you're just a silly high school kid, he thought bitterly.

"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"I thought you said that you were too tired to do anything today," Kurt replied, a touch of venom in his voice hidden under a lot of layers of fake pleasantries that Blaine could have missed it if he hadn't been listening for it. There was no denying it, Kurt was angry.

"I was," he said carefully. "But then Sam came over—"

"Mmm," Kurt hummed unhappily at the mention of Sam's name and he had to roll his eyes. Was this seriously about Sam again?

"Sam came over," he said a little more firmly this time. "He needed my help with something and I couldn't just ignore it. There was injustice happening."

"Okay," Kurt said but it didn't sound like it was okay to Blaine.

"They suspended Unique, Kurt," he argued. "She wore heels to school today and Figgins suspended her. She wasn't even wearing a dress like she usually does. They made a rule that men weren't allowed to wear makeup or anything remotely feminine. We had to do something."

Couldn't Kurt see that?

"Okay," he replied, sounding more passive-aggressive than Blaine had ever heard him.

Obviously not.

"Why are you upset about this? I did a good thing," Blaine said, feeling tears prickling the back of his eyes. He didn't deserve this, he hadn't done anything wrong.

"I'm not upset."

"You sound pretty upset."

"Well, I'm not," Kurt snapped at him.

"Okay," he said slowly, not wanting to argue with him.

"Great," Kurt said quickly.

"Great," he said, if only to fill the awkward silence. "Do you want to come over for dinner?"

Maybe if he just ignored the issue, it would go away on it's own. Kurt certainly didn't want to talk about it.

"You know, I'm kind of busy here. I don't know if I can," Kurt brushed him off and he tried to stop himself from crying at how much that stung, but a lone tear fell down his cheek. Blaine brushed it away quickly.

"Do you want to know about the number we planned for tomorrow?" he asked, forcing himself to sound cheerful and not like his heart had been pulled from his chest. "I'm going to be wearing a bahag for the first time. Even convinced my mom to make it for me so it's authentic."

"My dad's calling me. I should probably go."

Kurt promptly hung up the phone, Blaine's 'I love you,' fell on deaf ears and the sense of deja vu hit him like a ton of bricks. Kurt hadn't even asked him what a bahag was, which was shocking since Blaine knew how he felt about clothes.

Why Kurt was suddenly being so cold to him? Was it seeing Blaine in high school again that reminded Kurt how young and immature he was? Was he missing New York already? Was he honestly jealous of Sam?

Blaine wasn't sure what it was, but he didn't think he'd be able to get through all of his upcoming medical treatments if Kurt wasn't going to stand by his side. He couldn't force Kurt to spend time with him, though, so he didn't know what he was supposed to do.

The next night, Blaine came back well after dinner, having stayed at late at school to have a pizza party celebrating Unique coming back to school thanks to their successful number. He'd spent the entire morning arguing with his parents to be allowed to go, but eventually they'd all agreed that the prospect of being in Glee Club again was doing more good than harm to Blaine's health. They told him that they hadn't seen him this energetic since before he'd started getting sick. While school was out of the question since he still had to go to radiation every day and he needed his rest, a few hours of socializing a couple of days a week wasn't going to hurt him.

Blaine wasn't sure what it was, but being surrounded by friends again and performing, it helped him forget about everything that was going on with him. He just felt like a normal person again and he'd missed that.

He was in the process of trying to change out of his costume and wipe all the body paint off of his body when Cooper walked into his bedroom without even knocking.

"Woah, what's going on?"

"When did you get home?" Blaine asked, ignoring the amused look he was getting from his brother.

"Just now, Dad picked me up from the airport," he explained, moving closer to examine Blaine closely. "Does Kurt know about this?"

"It's was a school thing, just drop it," he said, growing even more agitated at the mention of Kurt, who he hadn't talked to since their tense conversation the night before.

"Is that a skirt?" he chuckled.

"Coop!" Blaine said loudly so that his brother would finally stop poking at him like he was an exhibit. "Leave it," he said once Cooper finally looked at him.

"Jesus, testy today are we?" he said with a roll of his eyes. "Mom said you went into school today for a performance. What were you singing?"

"We did a mashup of Elton John's 'The Bitch is Back' and Madonna's 'Dress You Up.'"

"How'd it go?" he asked, but Blaine could tell that he was barely containing his amusement and he knew that he'd be getting hell for this for a long time.

"Well, I still have this stupid thing," he said, pointing down at his bulky cast. "So I couldn't dance, but the arrangement was really nice and the number did what it was supposed to, so I'd call it a success."

"Is this part of your bucket list or something?" Cooper asked, pulling at the bahag until Blaine slapped his hand away.

"If you must know," he groaned, realizing that his brother wasn't going to leave until he told him the whole story. "There's a transgirl in my glee club and she got suspended the other day. We were just trying to get the school to change the dress code so she could wear whatever she wanted."

Cooper laughed, causing Blaine to growl at him.

"Sorry, it's just— you've always been so passionate about equal rights, I shouldn't really be surprised."

"Yeah, well, I was just trying to do what's right," he grumbled, rubbing at his chest that much harder to try and get the paint off of his body but he was only succeeding in turning his skin black. Kurt would know how to get the paint off without having to use rubbing alcohol, but Blaine wasn't about to be the one to make the first call.

"Care to explain to me how you dressing like you're back on the island proves your point?"

"Well, we got most of the guys at school to show up in some form of clothing or makeup that was now deemed 'inappropriate' for men but has ties to their culture and we sang a song," he said.

"Okay, what does culture have to do with it? This genius plan just magically changed their minds?"

"Of course not! Afterwards, the principal asked us what we were doing and we told him that we were wearing cultural garb that represent our heritage. Sam had on a kilt and a bunch of people were wearing different kind of skirts and stuff. He tried to tell us that we had to change. I said no, that I was allowed to wear the traditional attire of my people, even if it did resemble a woman's skirt. He told me I was being insubordinate. He said since I was clearly white, that I was making a joke out of things. He didn't believe me when I told him I was Filipino. Well, you can imagine how well that went over," Blaine said smugly, careful not to boast too much. Cooper always gave him a hard time when he thought Blaine's ego was too big, as if Cooper Anderson had any room to talk.

"So you basically called him a racist and he was backed into a corner?"

"I merely suggested that sometimes people are too quick to judge and that one's outside appearance didn't necessarily mimic what they were on the inside. I reminded him that we all had a right to dress in a way that represents our true nature," he said.

"And?" Cooper said giving him a knowing look.

"I asked him if he was going to suspend all of us for breaking the dress code and reminded him of the PR nightmare that would follow if he suspended kids for wearing clothes with such cultural connotations. If it was implied that he'd be viewed as a racist, well that's not my fault."

"You're such a little shit," Cooper said with a fond laugh. "You know what annoys me about you? You did all of that and raised such hell at that school and the administration probably still adores you, am I right?"

Blaine just blushed, because Figgins had invited him to sing at the school's assembly the following week barely a few minutes after their confrontation as if nothing had happened.

"Weren't you embarrassed?" Cooper asked. "You were pretty exposed, everyone would have seen your portacath. It didn't seem like something you wanted to flaunt."

"I was mortified," he agreed with a shrug, because that hardly mattered in the grand scheme of things. "But how I felt isn't important."

"What do you mean?" he asked, standing up to grab some pajamas for him out of his wardrobe.

"I mean that I'm going to die soon and it's my friends that have to be at that shitty school, not me. If I can help make things better for them, then I have to," he explained, standing up to change out of his costume. He would wash off the body paint in the morning, he was getting tired of rubbing at his skin. If Kurt were here, he'd lecture Blaine about the potential for a rash, but Kurt wasn't here. He was too busy being upset and pretending to be perfectly fine.

"You really shouldn't keep saying that you're going to die," Cooper said, helping Blaine to his feet and Blaine fell into bed, surprised to see his brother crawl in next to him. They hadn't shared a bed since Blaine was a toddler.

"But I am dying," he said, careful to keep his voice neutral and free of any emotion.

"You don't have to," Cooper said, turning on his side to stare at him in a way that had Blaine fidgeting uncomfortably.

"You heard what the doctors have said, it's only a matter of time," he said.

"Yes, but…"

"Coop," Blaine cut him off, not wanting to hear anymore. He didn't want to be talking about this, especially not with somebody that refused to acknowledge the truth about his diagnosis.

"Alright, fine," he grumbled but not before reaching out to grab onto Blaine's hand. "I'm proud of you kid."

Blaine glanced down between their joined hands and his brother's oddly sincere face and wasn't sure what to make of it. He didn't know what Cooper was proud of, exactly. Cooper wasn't usually one to compliment him.

"You stood up for your friend," he clarified. "You've got a good heart. I wish I was half as good of a person as you are."

Blaine felt himself choke up a bit. It had been years since the two of them had really talked. Sure, they had sung that duet together last year which had helped Blaine to stop feeling so resentful to Cooper all of the time, but they still didn't make a habit out of talking like this. Even when Blaine had been in the hospital, most of Cooper's concern had been buried under movie quotes and jokes about getting Blaine his own TV show. This was different. Cooper was different since he'd been diagnosed.

That was what caused Blaine to decide to open up to him and ask him advice for the first time since he was in middle school.

"So you agree, it was a good thing to do?" he asked, cautiously tipping into the conversation. He didn't feel comfortable outright asking him for help with his boyfriend drama.

"Helping out your friends is always a good thing. Why?"

"Kurt's been really weird about it," he said tentatively, lowering his voice so that his parents wouldn't overhear them. Having his bedroom right next to the kitchen was a new level of torture for him since his mother loved to stress bake.

"Is he transphobic?" Cooper asked, thankfully taking the hint and lowering his voice, too.

"No," he snapped. "Why would he be? What does that have to do with any of it?"

"Well, traditional wear or not, you were more or less in a skirt," Cooper explained slowly like he was five. "You'd be surprised at the amount of hate my one friend Josh gets, even from the gay community."

"Kurt didn't even know I was going to wear this. He wouldn't have cared. He wore a kilt to his prom. He was upset before," he explained, unsure why he was getting so defensive on Kurt's behalf. "I'm pretty sure this has to do with me hanging out with Sam."

"Oh, Blainers," Cooper said, giving him a pitying look that he just wanted to smack. "Kurt isn't upset about Sam."

"But you don't understand, he gets so passive aggressive whenever we hang out together."

"Kurt's upset that you cheated on him. He'd be upset about you hanging out with any guy," Cooper explained.

"But he said that he forgave me," he argued, getting frustrated. If Kurt was still upset about the cheating, Blaine wasn't sure what more he could do. He'd said he was sorry enough times by now.

"Okay," Cooper said, raising his hands in defense. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. Calm down."

Blaine didn't even realized he'd gotten so worked up, but his fingernails were digging into his palms. He unclenched his fists and looked over at Cooper sheepishly.

"Do you really think he's still upset about that?" he asked.

"From my experience, people don't just forget about cheating overnight. Even if they've claimed to have forgiven you."

"Are you talking about Angie?" he asked.

"Do we always have to be talking about Angie?" Cooper flopped onto his back and rolled his eyes.

"Only when you bring her up," he said, poking him in the stomach playfully.

"Okay, Romeo, let's not act like you've got a black belt in subtlety. You look at Kurt like he invented oxygen and bring him up in almost every conversation," Cooper said and while his tone suggested that he was joking, there was a hint of bite to it that told Blaine he was about to cross a line.

"Fine, I won't talk about Angie," Blaine said, holding his hands up in surrender.

"Great," Cooper grumbled but he could tell that Cooper was still upset about it. Blaine felt bad, he hadn't realized the wound was still so fresh. It had been several years and the two had long since become friends again.

Was this the future Blaine had to look forward to? Would Kurt always be bitter about what happened no matter how much time past?

"Coop?"

"Hm?"

"What am I supposed to do about it?" he asked.

"Talk to him," Cooper said, turning back over to face him.

"But if he says he's fine, then what do I do? He won't even tell me what's wrong," he grumbled.

"I can't fix this for you, B."

"Would you have forgiven her?" he asked carefully, knowing he was treading on incredibly thin ice since Cooper had just told him to drop it. "If she had changed her mind and decided she still wanted you. Would you have forgiven her for cheating on you?"

"It wasn't a question of forgiveness for me," he explained vaguely, only elaborating when Blaine poked him in the stomach and demanded more.

"I forgave her pretty much as soon as it happened; I always understood why she did it. It was the trust that was a problem for me," he explained.

Blaine had to suck in a sharp breath to keep himself from falling apart because he just knew Cooper had managed to hit the nail on the head. Kurt had forgiven him, he'd said as much and Blaine believed him. That didn't mean he trusted him. That was why Kurt was always watching him out of the corner of his eye. He'd thought it was because he assumed Blaine was going to break at any moment, but what if it was something else entirely?

"I trust her now," Cooper said. "She earned back my trust and respect, but it was different with us. We were only friends, I don't really know how Kurt's feeling because I didn't try and go back into a relationship with her."

"Would you have? If she'd wanted to?"

"Probably," Cooper said. "Don't you dare tell Mom or Dad that, they'll never let me hear the end of it. But probably. I loved her— but love takes a lot of work, especially the forever kind of love. It's never easy and you constantly have to fight for it. It's not like the fairytales you see on TV. If you really want your relationship to work out, I think you're just going to have to prove to Kurt that he can trust you."

"How?" he asked, praying that Cooper had an easy fix for this. He just wanted things to go back to normal between them. He didn't want to always have to worry about every little move he made and if Kurt was going to think it meant he was cheating on him again.

"Time."

"The one thing I don't have,' Blaine sighed dramatically.

He'd meant it to be funny. He'd meant for it to help brush off the seriousness of the issue so that his stomach would stop churning and he wouldn't feel like he was on fire. He had wanted to hold off a panic attack over the fact that he might die before Kurt ever trusted him again.

What he hadn't meant to do was set Cooper off. Blaine looked around frantically for something to help as Cooper's eyes started welling up with tears. He'd never seen Cooper cry. Not once, unless he was supposed to count the number of times his brother had fake cried in order to hone his skills, and Blaine really, really didn't.

"Coop?" he whispered and that was all it took before he found himself barely able to breathe as his brother squeezed him in a bone crushing hug.

"You can't die," Cooper sobbed, his body wrapping around him like an octopus. "Please don't leave me."

"I— you can't ask me that," he said, feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach.

"You can't leave. Okay? You have to figure something out. You can't just die!"

"I don't have a choice," he said, doing what he could to try and calm him down, but he could barely get his arms around Cooper to rub his back comfortingly. He'd always known that Cooper took up a lot of space, but he'd attributed that to his massive ego. He never really stopped to think about how much bigger than him his brother really was.

There wasn't anything that he could say to make the situation better, so he just waited out the storm. He let Cooper cry for what seemed like hours on his shoulder. Every single tear felt like it was personally stabbing him in the heart, but he knew that he had to be strong. Somebody in this family was going to have to get them through this and his parents weren't in any better condition than Cooper.

When his brother eventually pulled back, Blaine tried not to make a big deal about it because he knew that Cooper had to be embarrassed.

"Do you want to watch a movie?" Blaine asked awkwardly.

"Can we watch our old home videos?" he responded, reaching for the tissue box on the night stand to blow his nose.

"Yeah," he said with a smile. "That'd be nice."


	9. Chapter 8

Five days after their epic performance at school, Blaine found himself sitting in his living room with an old, now forgotten, episode of X-men playing in the background as Sam jumped up and down and told Blaine that he'd just married Brittany. He was grinning at him like it was the best news in the world and Blaine was trying to figure out at what point his friend had lost his mind. He'd known that Sam was under more stress than usual, but he'd never expected him to spontaneously get married because of it.

"I don't believe this," he said, burying his head in his hands.

"We wanted to invite you but we kept it private; you can come to the reception, though. We're throwing a big party tomorrow night," Sam said. "You can give us a congratulatory serenade then. You'll need a speech, the best man always gives a speech."

"The best man? Wh—" Blaine stopped himself before the conversation got off task. This was important. His best friend had gotten married to a girl who until two weeks ago was still lusting after Santana. "Has Brittany told Santana about this?"

"Why would it matter? They broke up," he said.

"I don't understand, you've only been dating a few weeks!" he exclaimed, trying to wrap his brain around how crazy this was all sounding.

"And we've only got a few more days to live," Sam said. "There's no other girl I want to spend this short forever with."

"Where is this coming from?" he asked, trying to remain calm and understanding.

Sam was his friend, after all, and Blaine didn't want to make him feel bad, but this entire thing was insane. At least when Rachel and Finn had gotten engaged they'd been dating for a long time. This came out of nowhere and the two of them were hardly mature enough to handle being married.

"Did you not watch the History Channel documentary that I recorded for you?" he asked. "They were real actors portraying real events, it's totally happening."

"Sam, what are you talking about?" he asked, completely frustrated.

"The world is going to end on December 21st, we only have two more days before we meet Q'uq'umatz, the feathered snake god," Sam said, sounding manic.

"What?" he asked, rubbing at the headache that was starting to form.

"The Mayan Apocalypse is coming!" Sam said with such intensity that Blaine could tell this wasn't a joke to him.

"Okay," he said, more to fill the silence than anything else.

He knew that the two of them joked around about super heroes and evil villains a lot, but that was all it was — a joke. They enjoyed marathoning Teen Wolf and Buffy the Vampire Slayer when they weren't busy running around stealing back nationals trophies. What teenage boy didn't do stuff like that? This was different, though. Sam was serious. He honestly believed the world was going to end and he'd just made a life changing decision because of it.

He wasn't exactly sure how approach this, but he knew he was going to have to think of something. Sam had been there for him in every way possible since the diagnosis. He put aside all of his own feelings about Blaine dying to make him feel at ease. Now Blaine needed to return the favor and try to figure out what was really going on with his friend. He couldn't honestly believe that the end of the world was coming, could he?

"No, it's not okay! The end times are here and nobody is taking this seriously," Sam said, throwing himself down on the couch.

"I'm listening to you, okay?" he said, calmly. "Just talk to me. Tell me how you're feeling?"

"I got married," Sam said.

"So you said," he responded, biting back a million retorts as to why getting married was a horrible idea.

"It all feels really surreal, you know? Like everything is hyper-intensified because the world is ending and every moment is the last time for something," Sam explained. "It's really cool to be able to be honest with everyone and be able to see the world from such a new perspective."

"It's cool?" he asked, unsure how the world ending could be considered cool. It sounded horrible and terrifying to Blaine, even if it was fiction.

Shit, Blaine had been thinking about his own death for a few weeks now and he'd yet to find any aspect of it refreshing. He wasn't sure how Sam could possibly think the prospect of dying was fascinating.

"Yeah, I mean think of all the people that die without any sort of forewarning. Or the people that have to bury loved ones and how hard it must be to say goodbye to them, having to continue your life without them. We're all going to die together and even though the dying part kind of sucks, we are lucky that we're able to do it with the people we love most at our side."

"Sam" he started, feeling his eyes start to well up as he began to realize where this was all coming from.

Sam was scared. He was facing a future where everyone was being forced to make decisions about their life and Sam had no idea what he was doing. They'd watched their friends graduate last year and go off to wonderful exciting futures that didn't include them anymore. They were getting closer to graduating and ending their childhoods. Many of them would go out of state to school and never come back. Blaine wouldn't even make it to graduation. They would all be saying goodbye soon and Sam would have to make a new home, with new people.

He was scared.

"And we don't have to spend so much time worrying about the future anymore and graduation and all that stuff because we're all going to go onto the next life together," Sam continued. "We can just focus on the here and now. It's kind of beautiful if you think about it."

"Do you think that maybe you're projecting, just a little bit?" he asked, wondering how much of Sam's anxiety out was due to graduation and how much of it was to do with Sam having to stand by helplessly and watch Blaine's impending death.

Blaine felt bad that he might have triggered this freak out, but he knew that Sam didn't have anything to worry about. He would miss Blaine, of course. He knew that it wasn't going to be easy for anyone to deal with his death — he wasn't callous — but Sam would be fine. He'd get into college eventually. He would meet other friends and grow up and get married — at the appropriate age — and he'd have an amazing family. He had a future, he just needed to relax and let it happen naturally.

"Projecting? Like in geometry class when we draw those lines?" Sam asked.

"What?" he asked confused before shaking it off. It wasn't important. "No. I just mean that this is a really stressful time for you right now. You still haven't gotten your SAT results back and everyone is planning college trips and talking about early acceptances. It's okay not to be sure about your future, a lot of kids our age aren't. Then with me getting sick and the stress that's probably causing, I just think that maybe you're focusing on this apocalypse thing because it's easier than trying to figure out what your own future is going to look like once this year is over and friends start moving away or, in my case, dying."

"I know what the future holds — tsunamis and horrible sea monsters," Sam said, standing up and glaring at Blaine like he'd betrayed him. "And this isn't some thing, the science is all there. The world is ending on Friday whether you want to believe it or not."

"What are you going to do if Friday comes and goes and nothing happens?" he asked.

"I have to go," Sam said, shrugging off his concerns and grabbing his coat off of the coffee table.

"We need to talk about this," he called after him, concerned at what other stupid decisions Sam might be planning for his 'last days.'

"I'll see you tomorrow," Sam said.

"Sam—"

"You're still coming to that party. You don't get to bail on this just because we're fighting. You're my best man and I expect to see you there so we can spend the last day on Earth together. You can send your RSVP to Lord Tubbington," he said before storming past Cooper who'd just walked into the house and was looking at them both like they'd gone crazy.

"What was that about?" Cooper asked as Sam slammed the door, causing them both to grimace.

"He thinks the world is ending in two days, so he got married," Blaine groaned, throwing himself back on the couch and closing his eyes, hoping the pounding in his head would go away soon. Maybe Tina would know what to do...

"I'm telling you, if you would just let me film you and your insane friends we'd have a contract with a major network by now," Cooper said, trying to lighten the mood, but Blaine didn't think he'd be able to laugh as long as something was seriously wrong with Sam. It was bad enough that Kurt was still being passive aggressive with him every time he called, now he had to deal with Sam losing his mind, too.

The next morning, Blaine had his mom drop him off at the Hummel's after his radiation treatment. He was sick of Kurt claiming that everything was perfectly fine when clearly he was upset. He was tired of superficial conversations and text messages back and forth and Kurt always finding some excuse not to come over to see him. He wanted his boyfriend back and if that wasn't possible, he wanted to at least talk about it rather than go on pretending that everything was okay when it wasn't.

"Are you here to see Sam?" Kurt asked after he opened the door and saw Blaine standing there.

Blaine's heart dropped at the icy tone in Kurt's voice, but he refused to turn around and give up. Somebody had to start the conversation between them and Kurt clearly wasn't about to.

"I'm here to see you, Kurt," he said, hating how small his voice sounded.

Kurt stared at him for so long that Blaine's teeth had started chattering from the cold. It wasn't until Blaine's watch began beeping, signaling that it was time for him to take his medication, that Kurt finally stepped aside and waved him in. Usually, the two of them would have headed straight upstairs to Kurt's room, it's where they preferred to have serious conversations. Instead, Kurt led the way into the kitchen, causing the knot in Blaine's stomach to increase. This didn't feel right, it wasn't them.

He sat down at the table and pulled the Ziplock bag full of his many prescriptions out of his satchel while Kurt fixed them both something to drink. The room was silent, neither of them knowing what to say. The tension in the room was obvious and it was pressing down on Blaine, making him feel like he was drowning. A glass of water was placed in front of him wordlessly. Blaine smiled his thanks and watched as Kurt pulled out his laptop and started typing away at what he could only assume was his latest Vogue assignment.

One by one, Blaine swallowed each of his pills and carefully put everything back into his satchel, dejected when Kurt never once looked up from his computer screen. Usually, he'd be hovering over him and triple checking that he'd taken everything correctly and hadn't forgotten any of his prescriptions. It just wasn't like him not to care. He hadn't even criticized his red beanie that in no way, shape, or form went with the rest of his look today.

Blaine didn't say anything. He patiently waited for Kurt to finish whatever it was he was working on, but he silently wondered if he ever would. Maybe Kurt would continue to ignore him until he finally gave up and left. Maybe that's what Kurt was looking for, an excuse to leave. Was he pushing Blaine away? Did he want to be finished with him but didn't know how to say it?

No, Blaine scolded himself. That was the kind of thinking that had lead him to cheat in the first place. It wasn't true. Kurt loved him. He was just…

Well, Blaine wasn't exactly sure what the problem was, but he wouldn't find out by sitting here in silence.

"I'm sorry that I told you I was too tired to hang out, then went out with Sam. I wasn't trying to blow you off, I promise," he said, hoping that apologizing for the millionth time would do the trick.

"Okay," Kurt said, not even looking up from his work.

"Please don't do that," he said, pathetically. "I'm being serious. I was sleeping but then he came over and told me about Unique and even though I felt horrible and wanted to stay in bed, I couldn't not help. I wasn't blowing you off."

"I know," Kurt said, finally shutting his laptop and pushing it out of the way.

"You do?" he asked, and Kurt nodded. "Okay, so then why are you giving me the cold shoulder."

"I'm not."

"You haven't texted me more than one word responses in a week. Don't even get me started on how one-sided our phone conversations have become," he said, growing frustrated. "If you're mad at me, then talk to me. Having cancer doesn't mean that I'm going to suddenly break if you want to yell at me. I'm sure you've got at least a few snappy comebacks saved up that you want to use."

"I don't want to fight with you," Kurt said with a deep sigh.

"Then talk to me," he said. "Let's figure this out together, because clearly something isn't working. Is it me? Do you not want to do this anymore?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Kurt said, looking at him like breaking up was the craziest idea he'd ever heard. It calmed his nerves to know that Kurt wasn't calling it quits, but it didn't change the fact that something was still clearly wrong.

"Do you miss New York?" he asked.

"I guess, yeah, but that's not what's bothering me."

"You have to tell me what's wrong, or I can't help you," he said.

"I don't know, okay?" Kurt snapped.

"Okay," he said, holding up his hands in surrender until Kurt took a deep breath and calmed down. "Are you confused about how you're feeling?"

"No. Yes. I don't know," Kurt said.

"Can you try to explain it?" he asked, just hoping for Kurt to say something more than 'I don't know.' Something that he could go on to try and figure out where it was that they'd messed up. Last week they'd been completely fine, Kurt had claimed to forgive him and it was like old times, now Kurt was keeping him at a distance and the only thing he had to go off of was that it had something to do with Sam.

"I can't help but feel like you lied to me," Kurt said.

"I don't know what you want me to say, I told you what happened," he said, frustrated. There was only so many ways he could explain himself, if Kurt didn't believe him, then Blaine couldn't make him.

"I just don't want you to feel like you can't tell me if you want to hang out with your friends," Kurt said.

"Okay, and I don't want you to get angry every time I do hang out with my friends," he said pointedly.

True, he hadn't meant to blow Kurt off so that he could hang out with New Directions. He really had intended to spend the entire day in bed. However, there would come a time when his friends invited him somewhere and Blaine was going to say yes. He didn't want to have to feel guilty every time he wanted to hang out with his friends and not Kurt. They couldn't possibly spend every moment together, it wasn't healthy. Kurt had work to do and he'd want some distance away from him and he didn't want to ever put himself in a position again where he didn't have anyone to rely on apart from Kurt.

Sam was a good friend. Tina, Brittany, Sugar, they were all really great people and they gave him things that Kurt just couldn't. They made him laugh when things got too serious. They weren't afraid to hold him close in public, when he was feeling bad. At the same time though, they didn't treat him like he was made of glass, just because he was sick. They didn't take themselves too seriously, but they always had his back at the end of the day. They made him feel like a normal kid, despite everything, and that was important to him.

Blaine needed Kurt more than anybody else in the world. Kurt was the other half of his soul and no matter how cheesy that sounded, he honestly believed it to be true. But that didn't mean he didn't need his friends, too, and he needed Kurt to be okay with that. He never would have told Kurt he couldn't hang out with Rachel or Mercedes. Kurt never would have let him dictate who he hung out with. So why did Kurt have a problem with his friends?

"It just makes me nervous that you would tell me one thing and then do something else," Kurt said. "It makes me wonder what else you might lie to me about and I hate that."

"I'm not going to lie to you," he said. "I might have made many mistakes, but I've never been untruthful to you."

"You don't tell me everything," Kurt said.

"When have I ever not told you something?" he asked. "I came to you when I cheated and explained what happened. I didn't hide that even though I knew it meant we'd have to break up—"

"You didn't tell me for weeks," Kurt argued.

"I was sick and I wanted to be able to tell you in person rather than over the phone, I felt like you deserved that," he said, pleading with him to understand. It wasn't that he was trying to be sneaky, he'd always known that he would come clean to Kurt, he just hadn't been able to make the trip up.

"I deserve you to not say one thing and do another," Kurt said. "If you say that you're tired and you just want to stay at home and rest, I'm going to assume that's what you're doing and I don't want to have to start doubting that and wondering if you're off sleeping with somebody else."

"I'm not sleeping with Sam," he said.

"Maybe he was right and I should have known that you were sick, but you should have talked to me about it, too," Kurt said, catching Blaine off guard.

"What?"

Is that what Sam and Kurt have been fighting about this entire time? Whose fault it was that he'd gotten cancer? As if one of them was to blame for the fact that he was dying and no doctor knew how to fix him.

"You were sick for weeks and never said a word to me about it," Kurt snapped at him angrily. "And part of that is my fault, I get that. I know that you don't just come right out and say that you're having problems and I should have known, but I was six hundred miles away! You should have told me."

"I tried!" he yelled.

"Not hard enough!"

Blaine felt his temper snap and he slammed his hands down harshly on the table, causing one of the water glasses to knock over, but he didn't bother to fix it. A rage took over his body and words started pouring from his mouth faster than he could stop them.

"Do you really want to sit here and get into all of this?" he said, viciously and he felt a sick feeling of joy at the way Kurt sat back in his seat and looked at him in fear. Inside, he was screaming at himself to stop, that this wasn't him, but he just kept going, unable to control himself.

"Do you want me to bring up all of the times that I called you up after just throwing up, hoping you'd answer so that I could hear your voice? How many times I thought that all I needed to feel better was to hear your voice, only to get your voicemail whenever I called. Do you want me to talk about how you hung up on me when I was trying to tell you I missed you, that I needed you? I was hurting! I was sick for weeks and I just wanted you here, but I couldn't even get a hold of you. Do you want me to talk about how I was wondering if some fancy New York guy had you spread out on his bed—"

"Stop it!" Kurt tried to cut him off, but Blaine just kept on going.

"Why else wouldn't my boyfriend be home when he said he would be?" he asked.

"I was working!" Kurt yelled. "You don't get to turn this around on me when you're the one that sexted half of Ohio."

There was a part of him that knew this wasn't fair. That knew he needed to calm down and talk about this rationally, but rational wasn't happening. He was tired from the radiation and sick from the chemo and he didn't need this right now.

"Don't act like you gave a damn about me," he said. "You forgot about me the second you got that job."

"Blaine, just calm down, this isn't you," Kurt said carefully, clearly afraid of what might happen if he didn't get a handle on his temper, and the look of terror on his face hit him hard. It was like a switch had been flipped and suddenly all of his anger was melting away and he was back to feeling like himself again.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry," he said, dropping his head into his hands. "I don't know what happened."

"It's — it's just the tumor," Kurt said, inching closer to him and awkwardly patting him on the back, clearly uncomfortable now and that made him feel sick.

"I didn't mean to yell at you," he said, looking into Kurt's eyes and trying to make him see that he was being sincere. "I do want to talk about this, rationally. I don't blame you for what happened."

"It sounds like you do," Kurt said, cautiously.

"I cheated on you and that's my fault," he said. "It's not yours."

"No, it's not," Kurt said. "And I would appreciate it if you would tell your boyfriend that, too. I'm sick of him walking around like he's so much better than me."

"I want you to hear me clearly when I say this, Kurt," he said, shifting in his seat so that he was facing Kurt properly. "Sam is not my boyfriend. He's my friend. He's a really good friend. I'm sorry if he's giving you a hard time or making you feel like this is somehow your fault, but you should know that he's not having the easiest time either right now. This is just as hard for him as it is for you. I'm not sleeping with him and I don't plan to, but I'm also not going to stop hanging out with him just because we are back together. I need him and I hope you can understand that."

"I know you're not doing anything wrong," Kurt said. "Deep down, I do know that you and Sam aren't hooking up behind my back. I just — I don't know."

"Yes, you do, just keep talking," he said, feeling better that at least they were getting somewhere, even if the idea of Sam and him hooking up was the most hilarious thing he'd ever heard, at least Kurt was talking to him. They were always better when they communicated with each other. Every time they'd ever had a fight, it had been because one of them had stopped talking.

"I never used to be like this," Kurt said, crossing his arms and legs, sitting up straighter in his seat and staring off into the distance. He was embarrassed about something, but Blaine couldn't understand why.

"Like what?" he asked, pressing for more.

"Jealous," Kurt said. "Anytime I see you with other people this monster takes over my body and I just feel like ripping the heads off of anyone that talks to you."

"I can understand that," he said, thinking back to all of the times he had felt jealous.

"You can?"

"Yeah," he said with a small smile, trying to show Kurt that he wasn't judging him. "I mean when you were texting Chandler, I honestly thought I was going to get sent to jail for murder. I went on Facebook and looked up every single Chandler that lives in Lima, trying to figure out who he was."

"How'd that work out?" Kurt asked with an amused snort.

"There are fifty-seven Chandler's in Lima alone," he said.

"Seriously? Fifty-seven? How is that possible?"

"The Friends effect I guess," he said with a shrug. "My point is, it's okay to feel jealous sometimes. So long as you understand that Sam and I aren't doing anything."

"It's not just Sam, it's everyone," Kurt said with a groan. "Tina posted a picture of you two hugging and my mind instantly went to that time you made out with Rachel and I thought I was going to throw my computer out the window. I hate feeling like this. I was never jealous before."

"That's not true, you got pretty jealous around Sebastian," he said.

"That's not the same, I never honestly believed you'd hook up with him before," Kurt said.

"But you do now," he said with a nod of his head, understanding exactly what Kurt was saying.

Now that Blaine had cheated on Kurt, nothing was certain anymore. Every look, every touch was going to be cause for concern when it came to Blaine. Kurt would always be wondering if it meant something more and Blaine only had himself to blame for that.

"I wasn't lying when I said that I forgive you, I do. I still love you and I want to trust you again," Kurt said, giving him a sympathetic look, like Blaine wasn't the one who had caused this problem. It made him feel sick.

"But you don't," he answered for himself, thinking that it would hurt less saying it himself than having to hear Kurt say it — he was wrong. The way Kurt's eyes filled with tears confirmed what he said was true and Blaine felt as if somebody had shoved their hand through his chest and ripped his lungs out.

"I know that you love me," Kurt said with a shaky voice as tears fell down both of their faces. "I know that you didn't want to cheat on me in the first place and that you're sick. And maybe if you weren't, I'd be able to believe it more when I hear you say that nothing's going on, but I just — I can't help but picture you with somebody else every time you're not with me."

"What am I supposed to do?" he asked, needing to fix this somehow. "I mean, short of being with you every second of the day, I don't know how to fix this."

"I don't think we can," Kurt said. "I think we just have to deal with it."

Blaine looked away and tried to blink back his tears, tried hard not to break down completely. It wasn't fair to make Kurt feel worse than he already did for something that was Blaine's fault. He just didn't understand why this had to happen to him. Why did he have to get sick? Why did he have to have a tumor in his brain? As if it wasn't bad enough that he was dying, but he had to have a tumor in the one part of his body that made it impossible for Kurt to trust him, because how could Kurt trust him when there was something eating away at his brain and forcing him to do things that he had no control over.

No matter how many times Blaine said that he loved Kurt, it wouldn't matter. The tumor didn't care about his relationship. It would do what it wanted whenever it wanted and Blaine couldn't stop it. Kurt was being realistic. He knew that there would come a day where Blaine would act on his impulses and his lack of judgment skills would cause him to do something he'd regret. He didn't want to hurt Kurt again, but he couldn't promise it wouldn't happen.

No matter how much they loved each other, it wasn't fair to ask Kurt to stay with him.

"So we're breaking up," Blaine said, feeling worse than he had when he'd first been diagnosed. Feeling worse than when he'd been told that no surgery could save him. Dying was scary and real and more terrifying than anything else Blaine had ever experienced before… but dying alone? That was something he didn't think he'd have the strength to do.

He pulled his knees up to his chest and curled in on himself as he began to sob. He felt Kurt's arms around him and that only made him cry harder.

"Will you please stop saying that, no," Kurt said. "We're not breaking up."

"I don't know how to do this without you," he cried.

Maybe Sam would be right and the world would end tomorrow and Blaine wouldn't have to figure out how to live in a world where Kurt couldn't be around him. It certainly felt like the world was ending — maybe the Mayans were right. Maybe they'd foreseen this very moment and had taken pity on him. Rather than make him go through months of horrible treatment that he didn't want, rather than force him to learn what it felt like to have your body slowly betray you as it started to shut down with nobody to hold him close at night and kiss away the pain, they'd planned an apocalypse on his behalf.

"You don't have to," Kurt said, tearfully. "I'm not going anywhere."

He turned his body into Kurt's and buried his face into Kurt's neck, allowing himself to take comfort in the warm arms around him. His own wrapped around Kurt and squeezed tight enough to bruise, but he couldn't force himself to loosen his grip. It felt like if he let go, everything around him would disappear.

As Blaine took in a deep breath, trying to force air into his shrinking lungs, he caught a whiff of Kurt's cologne. It was the same kind that Blaine had bought him for Christmas last year. God, they'd had so much time together and they'd wasted it on stupid things. The amount of time they'd spent watching TV and just sitting there next to each other, not taking advantage of the time they had left — they'd had no idea back then. No concept of how short a life together could really be. They'd just thrown it away like it didn't matter.

Thinking back on all the time that they could have spent together, all the things that they should have done, it only made him cry harder.

He should have taken Kurt ice skating — he'd always wanted to teach him how, ever since they'd watched Go Figure on Disney Channel that one time and Kurt had confessed that he'd never been. They should have talked more, sung more duets, done anything. They had so many happy memories, but it didn't feel like nearly enough.

"I'm so scared," he whispered and part of him hoped that Kurt didn't hear it because he'd been determined to be strong. His family was falling apart and Sam wasn't doing much better and somebody had to be the strong one. Only, he couldn't do it. Not all of the time, and now here he was, sobbing on Kurt's shoulder like a little kid.

"I am, too, but you're not alone," Kurt said.

His tears started to subside, but his arms didn't loosen their death grip. He tucked his head more comfortably on Kurt's shoulder and tried to find solace in the loving way that Kurt was rubbing at his neck. Crying always made him feel drained, like he'd just run a marathon. His body was starting to protest against him for losing control like that and a headache made itself known.

He groaned in pain and Kurt seemed to sense what the problem was. Without being asked, he leaned over and pulled the Ziplock back out and began searching for the painkillers the doctor had prescribed him for cases like this. Once he found them and triple checked the instructions on the bottle, he helped Blaine sit up and take the medicine.

"I know it's not fair for me to say this, but I honestly don't think I'll get through this without you," he said.

"Blaine, stop it," Kurt said, pulling him back into his arms and letting Blaine rest his aching head on his shoulder. "I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere."

"Okay," he mumbled.

"Okay?" Kurt asked and he simply nodded.

Kurt let him rest against him in silence while they waited for the medicine to kick in. It was taking longer to take effect now that Blaine's body wasn't as quick to recover and he was going to have to ask about getting a stronger dose next time he went in. Between the radiation and starting chemo, he just wasn't as strong as he used to be and it was getting harder to tough out the pain once it started. Truth be told, he wasn't really sure how he managed to survive it as long as he had. He could still remember the months before his fall waking up every day with blinding pain and only having Advil to help numb it. Now he could barely manage on the prescription strength painkillers he had.

Kurt rubbed his back and sang to him softly as he closed his eyes and tried to focus on anything but the pain. Kurt always was able to soothe his aches faster than anyone else and soon he was feeling warm, content, and completely comfortable. When he opened his eyes again, he felt more like himself.

"You're awake." Kurt smiled down at him as he shut his laptop closed.

"Was I sleeping?" he asked, looking around confused. When had Kurt gotten his computer out again?

"For a little over an hour," Kurt whispered, always careful to talk quietly to him after he'd had a headache, in case he was still hurting.

"You could have woken me up and moved me," he said, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and praying that he didn't drool on Kurt's favorite sweater.

"Not for the world."

He shifted around until he was sitting in his seat properly again, not entirely sure how he'd ended up practically in Kurt's lap. He glanced down at the table and saw that the glass he'd spilled earlier had been cleaned up and a new ice water had been placed in front of him. He didn't know how Kurt had managed to do that without moving and wondered if Carole hadn't come home and helped out. He blushed, wondering if Kurt had explained just why the water had spilled in the first place. He was still embarrassed about losing his temper earlier. Kurt deserved better than an angry, bitter boyfriend and he didn't want to turn episodes like that into a habit.

He picked up the water and took several sips, trying to rid himself of the dry mouth that always accumulated when he slept — a side effect of the radiation. When he was finished, Kurt took his hand in his own and brought it up to his lips. He couldn't help but smile as Kurt placed a gentle kiss there, reminding him that he loved him. No matter how much they might fight, they still loved each other and that wouldn't change.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better now," he said, leaning in to kiss Kurt softly on the lips. "Thanks for letting me use you as a pillow."

"Anytime," Kurt said. "So, are we going to talk about why you have an electric razor in your bag?"

"Oh, that," he said with a blush, training his eyes on the coffee stain on the table that had never come out no matter how much they'd scrubbed. Carole had become a drill sergeant about coasters after that and they'd never figured out whose fault the stain was.

"Yeah, that," Kurt teased him.

In the midst of all of the crying, he'd completely forgotten that they were in there. Now, he was suddenly reminded why he'd come over in the first place.

"I actually need a favor," he said, hating the fact that he even had to ask Kurt to do this, but he didn't think he could go to his mother and he didn't trust anybody else with something as delicate as this.

Kurt looked at him expectantly and so he took a steadying breath and continued, "My hair started falling out last week."

He heard Kurt take a sharp intake of breath and he averted his eyes, not wanting to see the pitying look he was sure was there. It only made him feel more awkward about the entire situation.

"Blaine."

"I thought I could ignore it, but I already have the one spot from the surgery and another one where I'm getting my radiation and I just… I don't want to be eighteen with a receding hairline. I'd rather just embrace it and try to own it like Bruce Willis or something. That way nobody can make a joke out of it," he finished, hoping he sounded confident, because he wasn't all that sure he wanted to go through with this.

"Nobody would make a joke out of this," Kurt said, reaching out to twist his fingers in a curl that had found its way loose and was sticking out from his hat.

"Still. I just want it over with. Every time I shower and pull out clumps of hair I feel helpless and I don't want to be helpless. I want to be strong. Can you please just shave it all off?" he asked.

"You're sure?"

"No," he admitted. "But if you don't do it, I'll be bald by the end of next week anyway, so what does it really matter?"

Kurt nodded his understanding and stood up. With shaky hands, he reached into the bag and took out the supplies — scissors, shaving cream, an electric razor and a straight blade. Blaine carefully removed his hat, self-conscious about what Kurt would think once he saw how bad it had become. There were just so many places where he's lost his hair that he couldn't comb over it all anymore. He trained his eyes on the stain in the table and tried not to flinch when Kurt's fingers ran through what was left of his hair. He felt hideous and not even remotely attractive, he wasn't sure why Kurt hadn't run out of the room screaming yet.

"You're so brave," Kurt said, kissing the back of his neck.

"I hate when people say that," he admitted with a shake of his head.

"I know, but you're handling this all with more grace than I could imagine and I'm proud of you for that."

Kurt's arms moved to untie his bow tie and Blaine caught them and pulled him down for a proper kiss, trying his best to make this normal, like this was something all boyfriends did together.

"You make me feel strong." Blaine said, hoping it didn't sound as cheesy as it did to his own ears.

"I bet you'll still look like a handsome, classic, movie star when you're bald." Kurt gave him that smile, the one that made him feel like he hung the moon and he honestly wasn't sure how he deserved it, but he didn't fight it.

"That's what you say now. Wait until we discover I have an awkward shaped head," he said, trying to keep things light before he could get emotional again. It was just hair, after all. Who really needed it?

"Honey, with the way you mat down your hair every day, I'm sure we would have already discovered that long ago."

"Touché," he laughed.

Kurt tied a towel around his neck to try and keep the hair from getting onto his clothes, then moved to pick up the scissors.

"Here goes," Kurt said, nervously.

"I'm not going to watch," he said, closing his eyes tight and flinching at the sound of the first snip.

"Just think about something else," Kurt said and he tried.

"I'm going to the orthopedic next week and if my X-ray comes back okay they'll give me a walking cast," he said, forcing himself to ignore the sound of the scissors snipping away right in his ear.

"That's awesome," Kurt said. "I guess that means I don't have to try and convince you to let me bedazzle your crutches anymore?"

"If you can figure out a way to making a walking cast look badass, I'm all ears," he said.

"I'm not going to color coordinate it to match your Nightbird costume, I have a limit to how much dork I'll allow," Kurt said. Blaine chuckled and opened his eyes, seeing the floor littered with little brown curls.

"I think I'm going to be nauseous," he groaned as the enormity of what they were doing sank in. They were cutting off his hair. Now he wouldn't only be the kid with cancer, but he'd look like the kid with cancer. People on the street would look at him and just know.

Oh God, this was a mistake.

"You!" Kurt exclaimed, sounding just as traumatized by the whole ordeal. "I can't believe you're letting me do this. I've never cut hair before!"

"You're taking it all off, I'm not sure you can really mess that up," he said, trying to bring a sense of calm back into the room so they could both make it through this. This was something that had to be done. "Besides, I would feel weird asking anyone else to do this."

Kurt smiled down at him and thankfully didn't mention how terrible it was that their lives had come to this. He didn't mention how strange it was to be sitting in the middle of Kurt's kitchen, shaving his head.

"At least your eyebrows are still perfect," Kurt said, trying to put him back at ease as he moved to finish cutting off his hair.

"Don't even joke, they are going to fall out soon," he whined, self-consciously running his fingers over his face to check and see that they were in fact still there. "My eyelashes, too. At least that's what everyone on the message boards says."

"Well maybe the fact that they're so thick will be a blessing," Kurt said. "We probably won't even notice if your eyebrows start to fall out, you have so much—"

"Leave me alone," he interjected before Kurt could finish his sentence.

"Please, you know I always loved your eyebrows. I mean if there's ever a role to play Peter Gallagher's son, you know that you're shoo-in."

"I knew you were lying about your crush on Mr. Cohen that day we watched The O.C. together," he laughed.

"Like you didn't have your own O.C. fantasies," Kurt argued.

"Yes, I wanted to marry Ryan Atwood along with the rest of the world. That's normal. Mr. Cohen was a dad," he said in mock disgust.

"A hot dad," Kurt laughed.

"You're a freak," he mumbled and thankfully, was too wrapped up in the conversation to even notice when Kurt plugged in the electric razor and began shaving the rest of his hair off.

"You told me once that Tom Hardy was going to be your second husband if we ever got a divorce," Kurt said. "You don't get to judge me."

"Taylor Lautner, Tom Hardy," Blaine said, holding up two hands and turning around to look at Kurt like he was crazy. No matter how much he loved Kurt, he was never going to get behind his obsession with Twilight.

"You're going to lose an ear if you don't sit still." Kurt gestured to the clippers in his hand, shushed him and pushed at his shoulders until he turned back around.

"I'm just saying, Inception, Dark Knight Rises, I'm completely justified in my taste in men. If you don't believe me, go look in a mirror," he said.

"I could say the same to you," Kurt said.

"Yes, I'm sure after today I'm going to be a real catch," he said with a roll of his eyes.

"You're never going to stop being beautiful," Kurt said and he smiled as their playful bickering stopped and they fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of the clippers not as terrifying anymore with his boyfriend at his side.

"So what are you doing tonight?" Blaine asked once they had finished and Kurt was sweeping all the hair off of the floor.

"Nothing really, why?" he asked.

"I'm supposed to be going to a wedding reception and I didn't know if you wanted to be my date," he said, thinking back to his conversation with Sam and worrying about him again now that he'd settled things with Kurt.

"What?" Kurt stopped, looking up at him confused.

"Sam and Brittany got married," he explained, starting to pack up his back. It was getting later and he still needed to go home and change before heading out to the party tonight. He was pretty sure it was in bad taste for the best man to be late.

"I know," Kurt said. "You should have seen my dad lose it on him at dinner yesterday."

"Your dad did?" he asked, surprised when Kurt nodded his head. He didn't think Mr. Hummel would be crazy about the idea of Sam getting married, but he'd also never seen the man yell and had a hard time picturing it. Mr. Hummel always struck him as a bit of a teddy bear, despite his rough outside appearance. "Poor Sam," he added. "I didn't take the news that well either."

"Yeah, well he's insane," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes. "Do either of them even understand what it means to be married? This is worse than when Finn and Rachel got engaged."

"I think he's just having a rough time right now with everything that's going on," he explained, defensively. He wasn't the biggest fan of the wedding either and he thought it was crazy, but he cared about Sam and he wasn't going to sit around and trash talk him with Kurt. Especially not given their relationship.

"You mean everything that's going on with you?" Kurt asked.

"With me. With graduation," he explained. "He's so good at taking care of everyone else and I think we sometimes forget to stop and take care of him, too."

"And Brittany is going to be able to do that for him?" Kurt asked, doubtfully.

"At least he's not beating Jacob Ben Israel up with an umbrella," he mumbled.

"What?"

"Nothing, different meltdown," Blaine said. "It's been a rough, weird year for everyone."

"Okay," Kurt said and looked like he was going to comment further but then thought better of it and returned to the topic. "My dad's trying to figure out if Coach Beiste was even ordained to marry them."

"Coach Bieste married them? Well, that's a relief," he said. "It can't be real if she was involved. She wouldn't let them make such a life changing decision without thinking it over first."

"That's what I tried to explain to my dad, but you know, he's still looking into it," Kurt explained. "It was weird, I guess I didn't realize that my dad and Sam were that close, but he gave Sam the whole. 'you matter' speech and everything."

"Yeah, well Sam's had to spend a lot of time away from home in order to go to school here. Your dad's been like a second father to him," he explained.

"I guess," Kurt said and Blaine could still sense some lingering tension there but he chose to ignore it.

"So will you come with me?" he asked.

"You're still going to go to the reception even though you don't approve?" Kurt asked.

"I'm going to be supportive until Friday passes, they realize the world hasn't ended and I can convince him to file for an annulment," he said.

"And if you can't?" Kurt asked.

"Then I'll be there to support him regardless," he shrugged.

"You really care about him, don't you?" Kurt asked.

"He's been there for me more than I can possibly explain," he said, sincerely. He didn't want Kurt to read too much into his relationship with Sam, but he wasn't going to diminish it either.

"I'm glad you two are such good friends," Kurt said and he could tell that Kurt wanted to sound sincere — that he wanted to mean it — but he didn't.

"But you don't trust us," he added for himself, looking down at the ground sadly.

"I'm trying," Kurt said.

So it was back to this again, they were going to continue to have the same conversation over and over and never solve anything. Why couldn't they just be past this already?

"I don't know how else to convince you that I'm telling the truth," he said, trying not to get frustrated.

"I don't think there's anything you can do," Kurt said and that made Blaine feel horrible, because he was never good at letting things be. He always had to be the one to fix things, to poke and prod until people opened up and let him help. He didn't know how to let it go, but Kurt was telling him there wasn't anything that could be done.

"I hate this."

"I think that the two of us just need to realize that things might not be able to go back to exactly how they used to be and we need to give ourselves some time to adjust to our new relationship," Kurt said.

"I don't want to adjust, I want my best friend back," he whined and didn't even care how pathetic it might sound.

"You have your best friend and you have your boyfriend. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

"It just feels like you're a million miles away," he said.

"This is why I didn't want to tell you about this," Kurt said. "I didn't want to upset you."

"I don't want you to not tell me things," he groaned, that was the exact opposite of what he wanted. He wanted to get back to that point in their lives where they told each other everything.

"Same, I don't want you to ever lie to me," Kurt said.

"I won't," he promised.

"I want to believe you—" Kurt trailed off and Blaine knew what he was going to say. He wanted to believe him but he couldn't trust him, not with the tumor causing him to act so out of control.

"I understand," he said trying to remain calm and not jump to defend himself. Kurt was entitled to his feelings and he had to respect that. "I don't like it, but I can't argue with you about it. I just want us to work."

"Me, too," Kurt said.

"Okay, so can we just forget about this fight?" he pleaded. "I hate fighting with you."

"Oh, yes please," Kurt said. "There's been so many things I've wanted to text you about all week."

"Awesome," he said. "You can tell me about it as you're driving me home. I need you to help me find an appropriate best man suit to wear tonight."


End file.
